A True Hero
by Soap Lady
Summary: While on a rescue mission in the frigid Arctic Iron Man discovers a man frozen in ice. After thawing the man claims he is Captain Steve Rogers of the US Army...of 1945. Is there a place in this modern world for an old-fashioned man of honor?
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note:__ Hello! This story will probably be my last for awhile. I'm just not feeling inspired lately but maybe that will change when season 2 rolls around. If there is one. Updates will probably be irregular so please be patient._

_Consider this as...well, not a sequel, but an episode or two after "Puniatores, Congregate!" in my alternate season two story timeline._

_Special thanks to FluffleNeCharka for her time, advice, and inspiration.  
_

**A True Hero**

The frigid waters of the North Atlantic were gray and violent. Waves battered the small research vessel like fists and the scientists were finally coaxed below deck by the experienced but wary crew. The last thing they wanted was for the idealistic eggheads to be washed overboard before their check cleared. The scientists weren't in good shape, and the odds of them treading the frigid water long enough for the ship to circle back and rescue them were low, to be kind.

The research on global warming was not going as smoothly as Litant had hoped. He was no sailor and was sure the little boat would be dashed against an iceberg at any moment. He shuddered dramatically at the icy death he was sure approached. They'd explained to him about emergency procedures at great length, and the man knew exactly what would happen if they went down. One out of every five of them would make it in ideal circumstances. These were _not_ ideal circumstances; they were overweight and over the safe number of people. He knew from the moment the captain had said that that things were destined to go wrong. He was no mathematician, but the odds of anything important going off without a hitch in the middle of the North Atlantic were low even on a good day.

His suspicions we confirmed when the radio squawked a warning about an approaching squall. The whole ship creaked around them and the lights flickered before the ship began to rock wildly. That was nothing new, and Litant might have dismissed himself as just being paranoid if he hadn't heard several sailors scream that they were finished. And while it wasn't hard to knock a scientist off his feet, when the rocking was bad enough the sailors couldn't stand, it was a real red flag. Worse yet, not only were there not enough freeze suits for everyone on board, but in this weather the few that managed to locate and put on a suit wouldn't be rescued in time.

The arctic sea was a cruel mistress. Twenty minutes ago it had been a picturesque day. Now Litant about to die. Dying to bring the world the truth about global warming. He supposed there were worse ways to die. He just wished he hadn't dragged so many of his fellow scientists out here with him.

He needn't have worried. Armored salvation was on its way.

_One hour earlier.._

"And what are you doing?"

Tony swiveled in his chair and regarded his best friend with solemn eyes. It was Tony's business face, as Pepper liked to call it, and if his bloodshot eyes were an indication he'd been here for a while.

"I'm monitoring the emergency channels. Looking for trouble. Some of us aren't lucky enough to have beautiful girlfriends to spend our Saturdays with."

"And whose fault is that?" Rhodey countered with a teasing grin. "Whitney was interested in you for years with no acknowledgment. And you treat Pepper like a sister. Most girls at school think you're weird."

"Gee... thanks for reminding me of my social ineptitude. Anything else you wanna rub in?"

"I'm _still _better looking than you," Rhodey quipped, smirking faintly.

Seriously, Rhodey _was _looking good lately. His raw umber eyes shone with a private joy and his walk was more confident. He and the lovely blonde were spending a lot of time together and while Tony knew it was good for his best friend to get out from under his shadow, he missed having his best friend and honorary sibling all to himself. He expected an engagement announcement any day now. Even Stane could not disapprove of Rhodey, and Tony knew he'd tried at length to do so because Stane had a track record of hating all his daughter's boyfriends. But no one with half a brain disapproved of Rhodey, not when the black boy had spent his whole life being the mature one in every group he was in. Tony privately thought the taller boy should be nominated for sainthood for all the grief Rhodey went through on Tony's behalf.

Not that that meant he'd let that remark go without quirking an eyebrow and asking, "Says who?"

Rhodey slowly ticked off names on his fingers. "Whitney. My mom. Pepper. That Goth girl in science class..."

"Speaking of, have you seen Pepper lately? She hasn't been at the lab as much as she used to."

"Well, she has a life outside Team Iron Man now. It's healthy. Aww..." Rhodey reached down and rubbed Tony's head, cooing like a concerned mother. "Is my widdle boy lonely? Is he?"

Tony brushed his friend's hand away in mock irritation, although a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Knock it off, 'Mom'. I'm fine. This just means more uninterrupted lab time for me."

Rhodey laughed out loud until the computer chirped an alarm.

"Speaking of interruptions..."

"Quiet, you."

The young inventor's storm blue eyes widened as he listened in to the signal. "A scientific research team is stuck in a squall. A rescue helicopter can't get through to save them."

Rhodey jerked his thumb in the direction of his War Machine armor. "Want some company?"

"Nah, I can handle a storm." Besides, Whitney would rip him to shreds if Rhodey didn't show up for their picnic on Sunday. She was what Pepper referred to as a Knight Templar girlfriend, although the two girls were on better terms now than they had been before. Whitney and Pepper were fond of telling people not to 'pull a Tony' and be late for things. In Rhodey's case, they needn't have bothered reminding him. Unlike his friend, the black boy was pretty reliable when it came to that sort of thing.

Still, though, he was a worrier by nature, and he frowned. "I'll monitor you, then. But... you know... be careful." The words 'for once' hung unspoken in the air.

The familiar red and gold armor encompassed the teen's body and he smiled reassuringly at his companion. "Hey, relax. I'm Iron Man. What could happen?"

The face plate slid into position and Rhodey remembered all the times things had gone wrong when Tony used that phrase. He paled considerably. "Two words, egghead: Murphy's law."

"Yeah, well, Murphy didn't have lasers," Tony retorted dryly, before taking off. He was gone before Rhodey could get in a reply. Not that his friend had one.

It was a valid point, after all.

The sea tossed and turned and Litant fought hard to quell his rising nausea. The beleaguered vessel groaned and strained all around the frightened scientists and crew. The small group of lab coat wearers huddled together for warmth and comfort; with death impending they saw no need in appearing brave and macho in front of the veteran sailors. Most of them were either trying to locate what rafts and safety equipment they could find and calling their loved ones for a final good-bye.

"This is the SS _Amelia _calling the SS _Fidens. _Please respond if you can hear us. Over."

The captain was familiar with the _Amelia. _She was a fairly large and sturdy crab vessel and could easily accommodate the extra weight of both crew and passengers. The dilemma lay in the other ship arriving in time. The sea was rough, but manageable if they moved carefully and had the balls to take the chance of crashing into stray ice out here. Which, of course, the _Amelia_'s captain did. He knew no fear and would sooner shoot himself through the head than leave someone to die out in the frigid sea. His name was Veeran Olkowski, but out of respect he was mostly referred to as Captain Olkowski, even by his family. In thirty three years on the sea he had never lost a crew member. Never. He set the record for both safety and reckless rescues. Everyone who overheard the name _Amelia_ on board the _Fidens_ immediately grew hopeful. If Olkowski was coming for you, you were going to make it. Even if you'd been shot through the stomach with a harpoon. (It was a long story. But it had earned him the nickname North Aqua man, and thus solidified him as a hero to the fishing world.)

"This is the SS _Fidens. _We read you. Over."

"We received you SOS and are on our way. Please send your coordinates. Over."

The captain dutifully relayed his ships coordinates but had little hope for rescue as the deck beneath him splintered and pitched upward, impaling his calf. White hot pain shot through him like a knife. Even Olkowski, he thought bitterly, wasn't going to be able to save them this time. But he had no time to call for help when the ship he spent most of his Navy pay on disintegrated and threatened him with icy, ignoble death. The water was so cold it was white hot, and they didn't have enough emergency suits nor the time to get everyone into them even if they'd had them. In the event that the captain survived this – which he doubted more and more as he rapidly lost feeling in his injured leg – he would lose his boating license and never be allowed to command a ship again. And, as he fought to stay conscious, he felt that was right. He should never have put all these people in such grave danger. The icy sea was a murderess enough on its own without his foolishness adding to this problem. As the crippled man fought to stay afloat, he prayed that someone would survive this waking nightmare.

The group of scientists held on to each other as they plunged into the frigid waters and submerged before they broke the surface, shivering. Only one-quarter of them could swim and only in a pool under controlled conditions. They were too busy keeping their colleagues afloat to give their own safety much thought but the first mate had enough sense to get as many people as possible to any piece of floating wood he could find bigger than a coffee table. Cussing, the shaking black man pulled the rapidly frosting scientists onto the wood with sheer force of will. There was a piece of metal lodged in his side that he completely ignored as he allowed a shaking man to climb onto his back when there was no more room left on the wood. The first mate was yelling angrily at someone not to die when a voice interrupted the swear-laden statement.

"Greetings! My name is Iron Man and I'll be your hero today. You can thank the fine crew of the _Amelia _for your rescue though. Specifically, Captain Olkowski for radioing me the second I got into range."

The wet and shivering crowd looked up in astonishment at the scarlet and gold figure clearing a path through the ice for the crab vessel. Before anyone could react he began scooping up castaways two by two and depositing them on the deck of the rescue ship. Through his helmet some of them caught faint bits of conversation between him and Olkowski. Or to be more accurate, they heard Olkowski going on at length on what to do, which injuries to treat and which to leave alone. Occasionally Iron Man would get in a 'yes', but even the iron clad super hero knew not to argue with the virtuous fury of the Russian man. Twenty minutes passed and all of the scientists and crew were now safely out of the water and recovering in the ship's mess. A handful bemoaned the loss of their data, only to be shouted down by the sailors who reminded them that they were alive and able to start over and should count themselves lucky they didn't drown or die of hypothermia. It was a miracle that Olkowski had managed to get the ship through the blocky ice to get to them at all and how Iron Man had managed to come to their rescue so quickly they'd never know. Fate was on their side that day, it seemed.

Iron Man carefully searching the surrounding sea for anyone he missed. The on board computer cheerfully sounded a warning.

"Alert! Casualty detected. No vital signs can be ascertained."

Tony followed the route indicated by the computer and found a human figure floating in a large chunk of ice. He could not determine the age or gender of the person and scanned the body carefully. Large, muscular, not a child, but other than that he had no way of knowing specifics. Still, an adult meant that it could've been one of the people from the ships earlier. Worried, he contacted the fishing vessel.

"Iron Man to _Amelia. _Are you guys missing anyone? Err, over." It was hard to remember that, sometimes.

"Negative, Iron Man." Captain Olkowski's frown came across in his voice. "Do you need us to double check, over?"

"Yes. Also, what about the _Fidens? _Over."

There was a long pause, some soft voices in the background, and then, "I had my crew do another head count. They say they aren't missing anyone, over."

"Well, I found someone out here. Looks like he or she was flash frozen. Over."

"You wanna bring them on board?" Olkowski sounded contemplative. "We may be able to partial-defrost the poor guy, but it'll be a bit before we get to the nearest bay's hospital, over."

Iron Man scanned the person in the ice. Being frozen so quickly had sent the body into a state of shock and stopped the heart, killing instantly but preventing cellular damage. The only way to save the icebound victim was to move him or her into a climate controlled room and allow the body to adjust to the climate change before being moved to room temperature. To put the body into a hot room, as many well intentioned but ill informed people had tried in the past, could trigger a second state of shock and possibly fatal cardiac arrest. The defrost process was slow, but absolutely critical to the survival of the frozen victim. Fortunately for his new best friend, Tony Stark had just the facilities for such a procedure.

"Negative on that, Captain Olkowski. This person needs specialized medical care. I'll take care of it. You focus on pulling off those non-lethal miracle stories you're famous for, I'll handle the Popsicle. Over."

Boot jets activated, Iron Man hefted his icy burden over one shoulder, pausing only wave at the grateful yet confused crowd below before heading for home. Some had injuries, but no one had any that couldn't be kept out of critical condition until they reached the nearest bay. Olkowski had two trained doctors on his boat at all times and his ship could take the extra weight – everyone would be fine. And Tony could, true to his word, take care of the unknown dead man.

He couldn't wait to see the look on Rhodey's face when he brought home an iceberg piñata.

"Have you completely lost your mind?"

Rhodey knew firsthand there was a fine line between genius and madness. His best friend had a penchant for not only crossing that line repeatedly but doing the Hamster Dance on it as well. He understood there was usually a method to Tony's madness, like the time he made a shoulder mounted tennis ball gun to wipe out a bully who was taking lunches and breaking the fingers of anyone who objected. Bringing home a frozen dead man and parking the corpse in the lab was pure insanity.

The taller boy stared at his heroic friend incredulously. "You have no idea what you've done, have you? Kidnapping is a federal crime, even if the person is already dead. Why not leave him with the authorities and call it a day? This is the craziest thing you've ever done!"

Tony managed a shrug even inside the armor. "You've said that so many times the phrase has lost all meaning."

"I'm serious! Do you have any idea what would happen if my mom found out? Remember all the stricter laws pertaining to corpses after that bust of that organ harvesting ring? Even if she claimed plausible denialbility, this could ruin Mom's career!"

"Relax, I'll buy her a new one." Tony's face took on a mulish cast that meant it was useless to argue further with him because he'd already decided on a course of action and refused to change. "Even the most technologically advanced hospitals don't have a foolproof method of thawing out a frozen person without killing him."

"Even cryogenics haven't solved that little conundrum yet. What makes you think you can? Wait, don't tell me. Because you're Tony Stark. The Infallible." Rhodey sighed loudly. "The least you could have done is call ahead to warn me, boy genius. I could have had the lab prepped and saved you a few hours."

Iron Man rubbed the back of his helmet with his glove and Rhodey could almost picture his best friend's embarrassed smile. "Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn't thinking about how this would affect you guys, as usual. It would be awkward to explain this to your mom."

The taller boy chuckled and then said. "So what about Frosty?" He asked, jerking his thumb in the general direction of the cold lab.

"What do you mean?"

Tony was dense. "I mean, how will you explain all this to the poor guy. What will stop him from running to the police with a wild story about some teen genius with a secret lab?"

Iron Man sat down and retracted his faceplate. "Way ahead of you. We thaw him out, he comes to, sees Iron Man, is carried to the nearest hospital for treatment. The Maria Stark Foundation makes an anonymous donation to the hospital for the guy's care and we're home free."

"Murphy's Law, Tony."

"Lasers, Rhodes."

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "Lasers won't stop Mom. She's laser proof. They'll bounce right off. By the way, Einstein, Pepper called while you were off being photographed. I mean, heroic." Tony glared at him but the darker teen went on as if oblivious. "She's coming over later and bringing something to eat."

Tony smiled. He'd been missing his honorary "sister" and swore it wasn't just because she was a soothing balm to his ego. She'd taken her rebirth as a cyborg better than expected and had quickly risen both academically and athletically. Pepper joined the track team and was studying martial arts with Whitney. That friendship continued to astonish.

"In that case, we should clean up a bit. Maybe vacuum, hide the frozen guy..."

"You're still not funny, Tony."

Having a tingling sensation in one's limbs is irritating. Having one's whole body experience the strange experience of nerve numbness is downright vexing, if a bit scary.

Captain Steve Rogers, late of the United States Army woke with a jerk and struggled to his feet, feeling weak and uncharacteristically clumsy. He hadn't felt this way since...but they assured him...was the treatment wearing off?

He looked around him. The walls were concrete and uniformly gray, giving no hint to his location. The floor was similar, if covered with melted water. The last thing he remembered was fighting Baron Zemo and Bucky...brave Bucky had tried to save both their lives only to perish before his startled eyes. His face crumbled for a moment in grief.

Bucky was beyond his help now and safely in the Lord's loving arms. He had to break out of here, wherever "here" was. A quick scan of his cell revealed nothing but himself, and a melting chunk of ice. Yes...he must have fallen into the water and fished out by persons unknown. It could have been the Axis or the Russians; allies or not, they made him nervous.

The water around him sloshed a bit as he walked and he tripped over something. Astonished, he saw his trusty shield silently floating in the muddied water. He picked it up in wonder and held it like an old friend.

So entranced was he with his discovery he didn't hear the doors open until the scarlet and gold...whatever it was...strode in and stood before him. The getup was a bit too Flash Gordon for his taste.

"Hey. Good to see you're awake. How about breakfast in bed?"

Steve drew his sidearm, only to discover decades of rust prevented it from firing. He threw it down in disgust and gripped his shield.

Iron Man brought up his empty hands in a gesture of peace. "Hey, relax! I'm the one who saved you! You're safe!"

"Then why don't you remove that helmet, soldier?"

The man looked to be in his mid-twenties and more fit than any one man had a right to be. He could have walked right off a World War II recruitment poster: blond hair, blue-eyed all-American guy. The fatigues he wore looked like they came from a museum. _Some sort of crazy war re-enactor?_ Tony was at a loss as how to answer. He couldn't reveal himself, even to someone who seemed...mostly harmless.

The older man sat down cross legged on the floor, looking resigned. "Fine. I'm your prisoner, but I expect you to follow the Geneva Convention, even if you are a Nazi."

Tony's eyes widened behind his mask as the man began to recite. "You want my name and rank, soldier? You got it. Captain Steve Rogers of the United States Army serving under our great Commander-in-Chief, Franklin Delano Roosevelt. And that, _mein freund_, is all the information you'll get out of me."  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Tony! Thought you might be hungry, so I went to the deli and picked up some rotisserie chicken and potato salad. They had a special on potato rolls so I..."

She stopped dead when she saw the man in fatigues, eyes widening. Steve automatically stood at attention when he saw her; good manners and respect for ladies had been drilled into him since childhood. Her mouth quirked with amusement. He looked ready to salute her.

Gently, she balanced bag on her hip and looked at the strange young man. He stared back almost to the point of rudeness and Pepper became self-conscious about her wardrobe choices. "Are you a prisoner here too, ma'am? Does he have you wait on him and dress in those strange clothes? He can't make you do that, ma'am."

Pepper froze and then began laughing. "Prisoner? HA! Besides, if Tony started ordering me around I'd punch him." Something in the man's manner, the way he spoke made her realize something unusual was going on. No one from this century was that polite. Well, maybe Rhodey.

"Sir? Do you know what year this is?" She finally asked gently.

Steve looked at her. She seemed as sweet and pretty as any of the Irish girls he grew up with. But she was wearing funny get-up and asking strange questions. "Sure thing, ma'am. Nineteen forty-five."

Her earth colored eyes widened and she looked at Tony. "I think you'd better remove your armor."

"But-"

"Relax, he's not armed and he's too much of a gentleman to hurt me. Just do it, Tony."

He shrugged. "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Steve Rogers had thought he'd seen everything in his day. But to see that armor split apart and reveal a skinny young shaver about Bucky Barnes' age beat all. The boy smiled at him, friendly and open.

"Hi, I'm Tony Stark. This is my friend, Pepper Potts. Listen...Captain Rogers, I think you were in that iceberg for about sixty-five years. It's now two thousand ten. You're in my lab. We're in New York City. In the United States."

The man in fatigues grew unsteady and Pepper rushed to his side to support him. The boy looked American, he _sounded _American, but this whole nonsense about being frozen longer than the president had been alive was too hard to swallow. It had to be a Nazi trick.

Steve grabbed the girl, who protested. Tony stared in shock. Why is it everyone he tried to help ended up turning on him?

"Relax, ma'am, I'll get us both out of here," Steve whispered to Pepper.

She rolled her eyes in response. "Gee, held hostage again. Surprise surprise. I should have stayed away like I promised myself."

Tony approached Steve cautiously. "Sir, I didn't mean to frighten you, but there's no need to take prisoners. No one's going to hurt you. Just stay calm and we'll-"

He was cut off as Pepper became impatient with the conversation and took matters-and Steve Rogers-into her own hands.

"Kiai!" she exclaimed and before anyone could react, she judo threw the startled man over her hip and kneeled on top of him to hold him down. "Tony, get some rope and tie him up!"

"Uh..." the boy hesitated, "Pepper, don't you think this is kind of counterproductive? I mean, we were trying to prove we _weren't _the bad guys."

"Just do it!"

Though mostly raised in a male household, Tony still remembered a time when a woman reigned supreme over him and scurried to do Pepper's bidding.

Now trussed to a chair, Steve Rogers sighed in disappointment at Pepper. "A collaborator. I might have known. Ma'am, if you surrender now, I promise you'll be treated fairly. No telling what sort of torture you've been put through."

Pepper frowned. "We should get Rhodey in here. He's the history nut."

Tony pulled out his POD and the prisoner was shocked to see the tiny device whirr to life. Rhodey picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Rhodey? Are you home yet?"

"Yeah. Just got dropped off by Whitney's driver. What's up?"

"Can you come down to the lab? Oh! And bring a paper from last January? January twentieth?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Trust me." Tony clicked the phone off.

The blond man couldn't believe what he was seeing. Albert Einstein was one thing but some of the gadgets these Nazis had was amazing.

"Hey, what's the rush?" Rhodey came in holding an old newspaper. He saw the visitor and stopped. His expression went from confused to severe. "You might have mentioned you had _company_. Is this the guy you brought from Halifax?"

Steve Rogers stared at the newcomer. He'd been friends with some of the Tuskegee Airmen and was more concerned with their courage and abilities than their skin but was still astonished at the two teenagers easy friendship and treatment of each other as equals. But that was nothing when he saw the headline on the newspaper. He began to suspect this wasn't a Nazi trick; they saw dark skin as being even more un-Aryan than Judaism. What in all creation was going on?

"Barack Obama, forty-fourth president of the United States January twentieth, two thousand and nine." He read aloud and met each of their gazes in astonishment.

He sagged in his chair, finally beginning to accept what they were telling him. "I think I need to hear everything."

Pepper didn't like the defeated look on his face and began to make him a plate of food. "Well, Captain Rogers..."

"Steve, ma'am."

"Steve...and you don't have to call me 'ma'am'. Even though it's nice to be treated like a lady." Tony and Rhodey appeared to take umbrage at that. "I guess we should start with the last thing you remember."

Steve sat at the table with Rhodey and Pepper. The awkward silence between them was nearly tangible. The formerly frozen man had never sat down at the same table as his darker brothers in arms before. He'd met the famous Tuskegee Airmen, even shook their hand and honestly told them how much he respected their work. But his beloved America didn't see them quite as equals and he and they knew it. Unsure about how to interact with the teen without offending him, he kept silent.

Miss Pepper Potts was also a surprise. She had the right name though; full of pep, she was. She reminded him of his mother, who he still missed. He hadn't met a woman so independent and feisty since Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt. That was one classy lady who'd make a good president. If women...well, that didn't seem so out of reach _now_. One lady had tried to run but didn't quite make it. Now she was part of the new president's Cabinet. And a lady was Speaker of the House. He'd bet the WAC s and Rosie the Riveter were proud. Wait until he told-

Reality sucker punched him in the gut. Bucky was...gone. His fellow soldiers were too, or they were old men. His life, his home, his _time. _All gone.

Rhodey gently tapped him on the shoulder and he held still to keep from flinching away. "You OK?"

The soldier forced himself to nod and then looked up into the young man's eyes. They were kind and compassionate and Rogers could see himself warming up to the teen once he got to know him. He was a bit like Bucky, him and that Tony fella.

"Just fine, soldier. Where am I bunking?"

Pepper found herself liking Steve Rogers. He seemed very honest and forthright and was doing his best to treat them both like equals despite how uncomfortable he was with modern attitudes. But to Rogers, a comrade was a comrade regardless of skin. Girls were OK in his book too.

"There's plenty of room down here." She told their guest. "Tony found you a bed and a place to shower. You can stay as long as you like. In the meantime, we found plenty of books to help you get caught up with our time." She didn't think the good captain was quite ready for computers.

"Please make sure you stay out of sight, Steve." Rhodey joined the conversation. "We'll be in big trouble if my mom finds you." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I'm not sure how we'd explain to her how a man trapped in ice just happened to be here."

Steve frowned. "You're keeping secrets? From your _mother?_ That's not right, son. She's bound to find out sooner or later and lying to your parents is practically un-American."

Pepper shifted ever so slightly in her chair. She was keeping just as many secrets from her own father but not because she feared punishment, but for his own peace of mind. It didn't make it right, though.

"Rhodey's mom is a lawyer. She'd crush us and insist you be turned over to the proper authorities. Then it's off to a lab where they'd run blood tests and..."

"No!" The word burst out of him with more vehemence than he intended and his companions looked surprised. He muttered an apology. If someone tested his blood, they'd find out about the Super Soldier Serum. That was a secret he promised to take to his grave. He decided a compromise was in order.

"All right, we won't tell your mother right now. But I still don't think it's right."

_A lady lawyer, huh? Wouldn't Katherine Hepburn be jealous of that._


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note:_ _Back from Japan! Sorry this took so long for me to upload but hopefully it's worth it. I do apologize in advance for one word that would be considered a racial slur today but please remember the decade Steve is from and understand he meant no insult. No flames on this subject, please._

_Thanks once again to FluffleNeCharka for helping me write this chapter!  
_

**Chapter Two**

Steve Rogers lived his life according to three tenets: hard work, honesty, and love of country.

His parents worked hard to give him a better life than they had had when scarce food and even scarcer employment drove them from Ireland to Ellis Island. His father, Joseph, worked all day on a construction crew and swept floors and washed dishes at a pub half the night. A stray girder took him from his family when Steve was just a lad, too young to really remember the man except for a strong pair of rough hands that tossed the boy into the air and a seraphic voice at Mass. To support them, his widowed mother found work at a textile mill and took in other people's washings, often going without meals to keep her son from dropping out of school to get a job. Sarah Rogers contented herself with threadbare clothing and third-hand shoes to keep her darling son in proper footwear and warm coats. That contributed to her early death from pneumonia while Steve was in high school. He often blamed himself for not noticing how thin and careworn his mother was and carried the guilt around with him even as he excelled in school as she wished, going on to become a fine arts student with a specialty in illustration.

Steve wanted to illustrate children's books especially. His mother would tell him fine tales of piskies and will o' wisp, brownies and goblins and strange pale women who lived on the bog. He remembered thinking other children should get to hear them too, even if his classmates laughed at him for wanting to draw for children. They didn't understand; they were born here and so were most of their parents. They didn't know what it was like to do without books, like his parents had. Both were barely literate but insisted on their son's education. Books had opened up a hundred new worlds for Steve, ones where everything was possible and good always conquered evil. He loved all kinds of mythology – he loved the clever ways humans could outwit the monsters they faced, the constant theme that physical strength wasn't the only thing that mattered. Steve was not in the best shape himself, and appreciated the message even if it was a bit heavy handed sometimes.

That wasn't to say he didn't love American legends, too. On the contrary, Steve was fascinated by them. He loved the American tall tales about Paul Bunyan and his blue ox, Johnny Appleseed; Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone. They weren't stories brought from the old country like the ones his mother recited at bedtime, they were purely an American invention, of ingenuity and bravery.

Sarah and Joseph also instilled strong feelings of honesty and morality in their son. They raised him to be a good Irish Catholic and lived and died by the Ten Commandments, especially honoring one's father and mother and bearing false witness. Young Steve chose to interpret that to mean no falsehoods. He never lied, even to avoid punishment. He might not tell the whole true to spare someone's feelings, like when their neighbor, Miss Crabtree wore that horrid puce dress. George Washington and Abraham Lincoln were honest men and the young Rogers admired them enough to want to emulate them. He'd heard it said that one of the oldest American proverbs was 'character is what you are when no one is watching', and his parents had taken that phrase very seriously. They were never rich or famous, but they were good people who were never two faced and who had never lied to him about anything. And in a way, that made them richer than anyone else he'd ever known. He liked to think so, anyway.

The Rogers family were proud patriots of their adopted country and flew flags and cheered at parades harder than anyone around them. Sarah especially was convinced that her son's birth on July Fourth signified her son would do great things in the service of his country. Steve loved his birthday and as a child was convinced the fireworks were in his honor, even if they frightened him at times. His father laughed at his conceit but humored him as well. They loved their country, where people of all kinds banded together to make the world a better place. The Italian family on the corner that sold home grown vegetables, the man from India that Joseph had worked with who had helped pay for Sarah's immigration to the United States, the gentle old black man who'd tell the school children stories – this was America, Steve's mother had explained. In America everyone was American and everyone was free to do what they wanted, free to come together, to build a better future, to live in peace. A lot of it went over his head as a child. Then World War Two broke out, and he began to learn just how awful other countries could be.

As a young man, Steve began to read disturbing stories in the newspapers about the Third Reich and even though his classmates laughed at him, tried to enlist in the armed forces. He was a tall but sickly man by then. Yet he knew instinctively Hitler wouldn't stop at taking over Europe, he'd want to take out the only nation that could truly be a threat to him after England fell. And even though by then he didn't have any flesh and blood family left to take care of, he had memories of people of all kinds and their generosity that had allowed him to make it in this life. The rumors of Nazi atrocities towards the Jews sickened him. He didn't know any more about their beliefs than the next person but everyone had the right to worship how they pleased by golly and murder in the name of "racial purity" was disgusting and any thinking person knew it. Steve had to be restrained by his friends from picking fights with American Nazi sympathizers. There was no justification for murder in Steve's eyes, other than striking down evil, and innocent civilians were just that, innocent. Besides, children went into those ovens and gas chambers same as adults and how could anyone, no matter what their religion or nationality, do such a barbaric thing? The concept was as foreign to the young American as wearing pants on his head. With every passing week the rumors grew, the stories got wilder, and the scariest thought was that so many people couldn't be wrong. If these stories were true, if Hitler was really slaughtering people like this, then Steve felt he had no choice but to fight against the madman.

The army rejected him when he couldn't pass the physical and Steve thought his chances were over. He received a reprieve from General Chester Philips who was looking for brave young Americans to volunteer as test subjects to create a new kind of warrior; a Super Soldier. Steve did not have to be asked twice. He passed all of the tests with flying colors and was selected as the very first to receive the serum.

There was not much of that time Rogers could remember. Most of his memories involved a strange soreness at the base of his spine and days upon days of utter exhaustion. The taste of the strange oral medicines still burned on his tongue and he had a vague recollection of receiving bursts of "Vita-Rays". All of this was tolerable if it meant he could serve his country and pay America back for all She had given him and his family. All of it was tolerable if he could protect the people who had made the American Dream come to life. He thought of the Irish tale of the changeling Saaski and how she'd gone into Hell to get back the human children stolen by the fairy folk, to pay back the humans for their kindness raising her after the folk killed her birth parents. He felt a new kinship for her, swallowing a bitter spoonful of medicine that burned like fire and knowing there was a purpose to his actions.

The whole process was draining physically but the results were undeniable as his entire physiology changed. He became stronger, faster, enhancing his reflexes and becoming the epitome of human efficiency. Steve Rogers was physically transformed, the first of a new breed of human. He lacked the medical knowledge to understand the scientists babbling, but he heard talk of using the formula on children with birth defects to keep them alive and felt his heart soar. America had come up with a cure to the incurable, and he had been part of making that dream a reality, to say nothing of what this would do for the war efforts. Steve had felt triumphant before he'd even been in battle.

All that changed when a Nazi spy revealed himself and shot Doctor Erksine, the scientist in charge of the project. The spy intended on stealing the formula but the good doctor never wrote it down, just committed it to memory and in his death spasms managed to destroy the existing serum.

Steve remembered a red haze that clouded his vision and he vaguely recalled chasing the traitor. His heart had been pounding in his head out of fear instead of exhaustion and he had every intent of dragging the man to court. Some vindictive part of Steve's mind knew that the good doctor had had more than enough lawyer friends to make this a media circus. Unfortunately, Steve never got a chance to make that a reality. The panicked man ran straight into some machinery and died horribly as Steve watched. His mind had blocked out most of it, but the scream still made him shudder. No one deserved to die like that, especially not without a fair trial. Even spies weren't meant to go that way. Steve hadn't been able to eat meat for a week after that particular incident.

With no way to duplicate the Super Soldier serum, all the hopes of the project came to rest squarely on Steve's shoulders as the army decided to train him as a counter-intelligence agent and a strong symbol of American hope to rally the troops to victory over the Axis powers. He was given a red, white, and blue costume and sent under cover to Camp Lehigh with the codename: Captain America.

It was there he met James "Bucky" Barnes, the camp's teenaged mascot. He was a good kid, if overeager to prove himself to the troops, all older men with families. Steve was an only child and mourned the fact his siblings had both been stillborn and Bucky was a lonely orphan so the two became friends, almost brothers. Bucky had been different than the other men around Steve. He was genuinely good hearted, innocent in a way that most other human beings lacked, and it was hard not to like the kid. For all his childish 'gosh golly' moments, at least he was honest and open. In these harsh times he was like a breath of fresh air.

"That," a general had said once, gesturing with his head towards Bucky, "Is what we're fighting for. The young people of America. They're our brothers, and hell if we're going to let them end up the Germans' whipping boys."

Bucky eventually became Captain America's sidekick, Steve took special pride in training his adopted sibling and the two of them fought the Nazis together, eventually earning the attention and gratitude of President Roosevelt himself, who presented Captain America with a special shield. The president handed it to Rogers himself, hands shaking as he did so. Steve pretended not to notice the awe in the man's eyes and gratefully shook hands with a man he considered a greater hero than he could ever be. For a time, just for a few months, it had seemed like everything was looking up. He held dreams of the war ending, of going back to his normal life. He had gotten far too used to being gawked at and bowed to by people for his own good. Looking back, he couldn't help but wonder if his pride at being a national hero and the pride he took at being a mentor blinded him to unseen faults. Perhaps if he had been more humble, more careful, tragic events would not have occurred.

Baron Zemo was trying to destroy an experimental plane army scientist were sure would tip the balance of power in the Allies' favor and launched the craft with a bomb on board. Brave, doomed Bucky had tried to disarm the bomb only to fail and explode with the plane. Well, not fail, exactly. His efforts had kept the explosion from turning into a nightmarish fireball that would've hurt both sides. He had succeeded even in failure. Steve never should have brought the boy into that situation; his new body chemistry had saved him, Bucky was just a child. An innocent child who trusted his big brother to protect him, save him. Did he die blaming his hero for his demise? Steve hoped with all his heart Bucky never even saw Death coming and the boy was in heaven singing along with Sarah and Joseph Rogers, for they were three people who truly deserved salvation. Later in his life Steve would learn from Tony that explosions happened so quickly that, before the blast even hit Bucky, something called Sudden Nerve Trauma had killed him. The shock from the explosion itself had caused the brain to simply switch off. He never even felt the fireball touch him. But Tony wasn't there at the time to provide medical analysis, and Steve had spent more time thinking about the loss of the last true family he had left than he'd ever let alone know.

Steve was no longer sure what the afterlife held for him after what he saw as his unpardonable sin of pride. His new "life" held even more uncertainties.

He just hoped America could still use a hero.

* * *

Presently he was out of the lab for the first time since he'd woken up. Rhodey had advised Tony against it, saying something about 'future shock' and 'being unplugged' that was apparently a reference to some kind of story they both knew that Steve didn't. In the end Tony had simply talked him out of it with the logic that Steve wasn't about to go Johnny the Homicidal Maniac on them. "He just needs to get his bearings, see what America's like nowadays. You know, get pretzels, find some new clothes, look at some books, that kind of thing. It's like a field trip through modern day NYC." Rhodey had looked uncertain about the whole venture, but had conceded that it was probably an okay idea so long as Tony didn't overload Steve too much. The black boy would've gone with them had he not had a date. The brunette showed Steve a picture of the lovely couple on his cell phone.

"Mr. Stane lets his daughter date colored men?" Steve asked, earning a double take from Tony.

"A, don't say 'colored' ever again unless you want to start a New York street brawl. B, yeah. Rhodey's smart, sweet and he's not abusive like her last boyfriend." Tony's voice took on an extraordinary level of animosity on those last words. "Of course, after what happened last time I'm sure anyone looks good, but Rhodey's a really nice guy, even if he does mother me around a lot."

Steve grinned. He remembered being called the mother hen of the troops on more than one occasion. It was a title he'd never denied. Maybe he and the black boy had more in common than he thought.

* * *

The world was a lot brighter than Steve remembered. Every shop had blinking lights and signs advertising sales that drove home to Steve just how much the value of currency had changed since he was last out and about. There were a lot of oddly dressed people around. Apparently jeans now came in every color of the rainbow and it was possible to have raccoon striped hair. Steve had no idea how that was possible and quite frankly didn't want to know. He wondered when dresses and skirts had gone out of style for women. He saw more pants and short hair on women walking to the subway station than he had in his entire lifetime. Every single person had a cell phone or MP3 player on them and people on benches were using laptop computers. He felt like he was on an alien world where he was the real alien among the indigenous people. Steve was like Saaski in the fairy tale, venturing into the mound where the fairies lived and the laws of man did not apply.

Unlike Saaski, nobody was trying to kill Steve. And he was fascinated by everything even as it threatened to overwhelm him entirely. There were still stores run by families, still people of all nationalities walking the streets of NYC, and still street performers trying to earn a little money where they could. This place was home buried under layers of new tech, but it was still home. At least, that was his thought until they took the subway to the real business district. The buildings touched the sky and went on and on forever, hundreds of floors. There were shops advertising things he didn't comprehend, phones, computers, electronics that seemed to have their own language to them. The crowd was thick with people of all backgrounds whose languages were an impenetrable wall. Cars went by that looked ungodly expensive. Tony looked right at home, greeting people with nods and smiles, leading Steve forward to a large three level building that was clogged to the brim with people. He called this den of strangely dressed people, screaming children and overweight adults 'the mall' and Steve wasn't sure what he wanted to stare at the most. He was well aware his mouth had been open for the past twenty minutes, he just didn't care and couldn't stop when there was a new marvel in every store.

Tony's explanations were not helping him. If anything, the teen's nonstop chatter was making Steve more confused than he'd have been had Tony not spoken. The mall had a lot of garish clothing Steve desperately hoped Tony wouldn't ask him to try on, and there was a store filled with gadgets that wouldn't have looked out of place in some kind of sci-fi comic book like the ones Bucky used to collect. He winced at the thought. Bucky would've loved to see this. Had things not gone down as they had, Bucky would have seen this. He tried not to focus on that as Tony rambled on about cliques, music and the mall's evil effect on women, which he was sure was greatly exaggerated. Rhodey was right, Steve really shouldn't have gone out so soon. Or at least, not with Tony, whose technobabble was a foreign language to him. Steve had to fight with him to go into one of the normal looking clothing stores, while Tony was practically falling over himself to get Steve into a store with outlandish looks outfits and even worse prices called Cyberia.

"I've been wanting to raid this place ever since it opened!" he complained. "Come on, it's tres cyberpunk."

Not only did Steve not know what cyberpunk meant, he was fairly sure that wasn't how the French word tres was supposed to be used. "I want to blend in and look presentable, sir, not wear things that look like they come from another planet." Steve noticed the way Tony's nose crinkled in disdain at being called sir and sighed. "And I don't think Rhodey would appreciate it if we came home with glow in the dark pants and no real civvies."

The brunette gave one last wistful look at Cyberia and the array of goggles in the front window. "But I wanted to at least get you a trench coat. It's bad ass."

"Watch your mouth," Steve reminded him automatically. Tony rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like 'yes, mom' as the blond man decided to concede defeat. "You're paying for everything, so… if you really think I need a coat, fine. I just don't want to put you into debt for it, and that store's awfully expensive."

The soldier was taken aback when Tony burst into genuine laughter. "I've got more money than God, Rogers," the teen replied with a smirk. "I could buy the mall and still have more in any one of my bank accounts than most people make in their lifetime. Roberta tries to keep me from blowing it all – some nonsense about learning responsibility and the value of a dollar – but there isn't anything here I can't buy." His expression went from arrogant to suddenly serious and somber. "Especially for Captain America. You're a legend. You gave your life defending your country. You've earned anything you want." He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the three levels of shopping around him. "The world's yours, just tell me what you want and let me worry about the price."

Suddenly Steve felt keenly aware of Tony's blue-gray eyes on him, the respect and awe shining in those glacous colored orbs, and it was enough to make all his previous tension at the situation melt away. All he felt was a strange emptiness where his heart should be. He neither deserved nor wanted this kind of effect on people. It was too much like how Bucky had seen him. Feeling choked up and not entirely sure why, Steve averted his Prussian blue eyes before Tony could see how deeply he'd accidentally wounded the soldier. A legend. Everybody knew him and yet nobody really _knew_ him, knew who he was. The world had overlooked all his shortcomings. History was rewritten by the victors. But Lord knew it had never been that simple or clear cut on the battlefield and he didn't deserve this anymore than any other veteran did.

Luckily, he was saved from the lengthening awkward silence. "Tony!" a girl with chocolate brown hair and cerulean blue eyes yelled, emerging from Cyberia looking several kinds of angry. She had a waspishly thin waist and was dressed in what Steve recognized from a Betty Boop cartoon as a kimono. Yet this kimono barely covered the young lady's legs and appeared to be made of black leather with green trim. One arm was bare save for a fingerless fishnet glove and matching tights covered her legs so snugly Steve fought to look at her face and nothing else. Black knee high boots completed the ensemble and the time spanned soul wonder idly how her parents could have let her leave the house like that. "You smug douche, where the hell have you been?"

"Love you too!" Tony said cheekily, smiling as she scowled at him. "_Kiel vi fartas_?"

"_Tre bone, dankon. Kaj vi_?" She gave him an annoyed glare when he paused. "_Kaj vi_?" she asked again, looking increasingly irritated.

"_Mia kusenveturilo estas plena je angilo_j," he shot back after a thoughtful moment. She relaxed instantly, but only temporarily before her classically oval face regained its scowl.

"Well, nice to know you didn't turn stupid on us. Tony, where the hell have you been?"

"Busy. House guest," he added, gesturing with his head to Steve. "But I promise, I'm going to make the next meeting, okay? Just don't spaz out on me in public."

"Oh, you don't need my help drawing unwanted attention to yourself," she snapped, sky eyes blazing. "You do that all by yourself. Adieu."

"Well, that's the last time I offer to buy someone everything in the building. Jeez, you'd think I'd run around the mall screaming 'I am Iron Man' or something." Tony looked contemplative. "Anyway, let's get back to clothes shopping, shall we? Hopefully we can get this done in time for Attack Of The Show…"

"Tony, who was that?" Steve asked, looking at the retreating form curiously. "And what's this about a meeting?"

"Oh, that's Janet Van Dyne. Bit of a fashionista but basically a good person. Her dad and my dad were friends. She and her boyfriend Hank travel in the same social circles I do. And it's nothing important," Tony waved his hands dismissively. "At least, nothing you'd be interested in. We speak Esperanto, drink coffee, and talk about movies. It's just a thing I'm part of."

Steve allowed him to be dragged into the ordinary department store Tony had been so desperate not to go into before, and felt his eyes narrow. There was something wrong here. Now, it had been a long time since Steve had been out and about in the world. There were gadgets he didn't understand, things commonplace now that hadn't even been on the drawing board in his time, but one thing he understood was code. The girl had wanted a reply from him. It had been rehearsed and utterly incomprehensible to Steve, probably to everyone around him, for that matter. Once he'd said it she'd changed entirely – her demeanor had shifted from angry to worn out and frazzled. This was not what Tony said it was. He noticed the brunette boy seemed to be on edge. Steve frowned, drew himself up to full height and gave the boy his best 'tell me the truth' glare'.

"Boy, I've had enough lies in the past week to last me a lifetime. Now, what-"

"Keep your voice down, and act normal," Tony told him quickly. "Talk quietly, walk quickly. Don't look around or act suspicious. Pretend you care about kinds of cotton or whatever while I talk."

Steve gave him an incredulous look, but begrudgingly decided to go along with it. Mostly because he needed clothes. Thankfully modern stores seemed to have an excess of taller and bigger sizes, much to his relief. He noticed the way Tony shifted from foot to foot, trying to think fast. Suddenly it struck Steve that he had no idea who Anthony Stark really was beyond Iron Man and a genius, and the unknowns left a lot of blanks to fill. He knew Tony's basic back story from Rhodey, had been catching up on the history of the world, but he had no idea who this boy really was. Pepper was different, honest and open like Rhodey was. Tony was snarky and secretive. He was richer than God and knew a lot of rich and connected teenagers.

"Well, we'll start at square one. Do you know what Esperanto is?" Tony whispered, looking completely absorbed in the task of picking out a specific color shirt for Steve. Only the slight excited tremble in his fingers betrayed his anxiety. When Steve shook his head minutely, Tony sighed. "The one part of this that existed in your day, and you…" He sighed. "It's a language, Steve. A construct language. And it's what the resistance has used from the beginning. Simple to teach, incomprehensible to normal Americans. Perfectly logical. Which," he held up a shirt to Steve's chest with what passed for a calm expression on his face, "Is what we more or less run on. That, and copious doses of red pill blue pill philosophy." He paused. "You didn't get that reference, did you? Crap. Let me explain. If you want, you can go home now, forget this happened, ignore the growing problems in America and the imminent approach of World War Three. That's the red pill section of the philosophy."

"And the blue pill?" Steve asked, feeling distinctly uneasy with the way Tony was acting. There was a rehearsed sound to his voice even as passion and emotions wove themselves into his words. Steve found himself carrying a growing amount of clothing as they moved through the store, ignored in the chatter of ordinary people.

"You can admit that it's all shot at this point and step up to help. The police are corrupt, the government is filled with backstabbers and deal makers. Even SHIELD won't see reason anymore. Vigilantes are the only thing standing between us and total anarchy. Somebody has to step up and say enough is enough, you can't get away with this." Tony's hands had been twisting a T-shirt tightly beneath him; he released it, looking sheepish. "But since crime fighting is illegal for people without a badge, we're fairly underground, though we do engage in a lot of hiding in plain sight."

"Cyberia," the blond muttered.

Tony smiled. "Got it in one. That was Janet's idea. Open up a cyberpunk shop and nobody will think twice about people gathering around to discuss nerdy things in the backroom. After all, weak little geniuses are just like that. Not to say that Janet and Hank don't make profits off that store – are you kidding me? It's New York City, every subculture on Earth has its branches and roots here."

"So, then, why are you telling me this, when you've gone through so much to hide your organization?"

"Firstly, it's not mine, it's Janet's. She's the one who's been getting us all together, creating a network of crime fighters that's nothing like New York has ever seen. Secondly…" Tony leaned in, knowing the motion was obscured by a new coat display. "I want you to join us. Captain America, working to end crime in one of the most corrupt cities in the world, saving lives…" Steve swore he saw the teen's eyes get misty. "Think of all the good you could do."

"Do Rhodey and Pepper know about this?"

"No. They think I'm part of some nerdy club that speaks Esperanto, drinks coffee and talks about movies. Which we actually _do,_ on occasion," he noted with a small smile. "So, what do you say, Steve? Will you be Captain America again?"

_Author's Note Part Duh:__ *Loosens collar with a nervous chuckle.* Eh heh heh heh...MadroxDR pointed this out and I can't believe I forgot. Thanks again! Here is a translation of the Esperanto used._

_Kiel vi fartas? is "How are you?"_

_Tre bone, dankon. means "Very well, thank you."_

_Kaj vi_? _is Esperanto for "And you?"_

And lastly, "_Mia kusenveturilo estas plena je angilo_j," _translates as "My hovercraft is full of eels." This is the phrase Tony and friends use to identify themselves. Because...yeah._


	3. Chapter 3 Part One

Authors' Note: Hey_ guys! Sorry it's taken me so long to write this but I hope to make up for it by posting this extra long chapter. So long in fact that I'll probably have to split it into two parts. You might want to grab a snack for this._

_Thanks for reading!_

**Chapter ThreePart One**

The erstwhile Captain America looked deep into the younger hero's storm blue eyes. They were alight with hopeful enthusiasm that filled Steve with painful nostalgia. Would there ever be a time when he could see Tony and not be reminded of Bucky? That trusting optimism was nearly his undoing and he felt his resolve teeter on the edge of capitulation. He paused for a moment, watching the way Tony's eyes pleaded with him, before sighing heavily.

"I can't."

Tony's face fell, sending the sun behind the clouds. "You can't? You have to! We need you! You're _CAPTAIN AMERICA_!" The boy struggled with his words, a sure sign he was in shock. "You're-you're like Uncle Sam himself! My father use to read me stories about all the missions you went on, the people you helped. When my dad wrote the Stark International code of honor he based it on you. You're the reason I came up with the armor! Azerbaijan – it's a country, only it wasn't a country in your day, but without you they'd never have been a country – they literally have 'courageous as Captain America' as an everyday phrase in their language! FDR himself said it was an honor just to have met you! The history books say-"

"History books are whitewashed, Tony," Steve interrupted gently. He no more wanted to break the boy's heart than he wanted to kick a puppy but he couldn't just stand there and let this youngster compare him to people like Uncle Sam and _Franklin Delano Roosevelt_. And Steve didn't know enough about Azerbaijan to refute the claim, but he knew he didn't deserve that kind of praise and his face burned with the knowledge that he was being made into a modern day Hercules. He glanced at the storefront window, out into the mall where miraculous technology was now commonplace, and he mentally corrected himself. Not modern. He was to Tony Stark what the Wild West had been to Steve as a child. And Lord only knew how many of those tales had been outright lies.

"They try to wash away the blood and grit with cold facts and figures but just because it's hidden doesn't erase the fact the war was filled with suffering, barbarism and death. Death, Tony." Rogers smiled sadly. "Boys younger than you who lied about their age to enlist died crying for their mothers. To say nothing about what happened to poor gals in occupied countries. There was no glory and heroism, just survival and a fight for what's right. I'm not a great hero, just a soldier. There were better men than me who should be standing here and aren't. Lots of horrors happened during that war, things you won't see in your primer.

"Now, don't get riled," Steve headed Tony off before the boy inventor could protest. "I'm flattered you have such a high opinion of me and I think you're the bee's knees," Tony looked somewhat confused at that. "But I'm not ready to take up my shield again. Maybe never. This is history to you. Heck, maybe even ancient history. To me, the war was just last week." Steve's throat clenched and he blinked rapidly for a few seconds. His hurt and loss was too raw and he hoped the boy would understand.

Fortunately Tony comprehended what his house guest was trying to say and mentally chastised himself for trying to rush Steve to a decision on something so monumental when he knew firsthand what the man was going through. Yet Tony had been lucky. Rhodey, Roberta, and Pepper were there to support him whereas Steve had nobody. Not to mention Captain America's huge leap forward in time and the young inventor admired Roger for making an effort to acclimate as quickly as possible. He tried not to feel betrayed or hurt even when, deep down, he felt as if he'd just been slapped upside the head by reality. After the revelation that his father had been a maker of weapons and a liar, Tony had tried to cling to Captain America as a true hero. He'd tried not to hate his father when he had the increasing sense that he had never really known him, tried to keep his head above water in this strange life he found himself leading by thinking about his own hero. And his hero didn't want to help his effort to keep the country from crumbling all around him. Tony tried not to get angry. Steve had been through a lot. Of course he didn't want to run back into battle right away. Especially not with someone Tony's age; hadn't heroes all been adults back in Steve's day, in their twenties and thirties at the start? They really were from different worlds.

Feeling Steve was still watching him he nodded his understanding and smiled in a superficial attempt to hide his disappointment. Something akin to total betrayal was in his eyes, however. Steve felt the urge to wince.

"Yeah, I get it. Come on. I think it's time you met the Speedo." Tony paused, clearly battling with himself. "But, for the record? I know about 'barbarism and death'. I grew up in the Dark Age of Superheroes." At Steve's blank look, he sighed. "Oh, this is going to be a fun conversation…"

* * *

Steve cautiously poked his takoyaki with a spoon. "What did you say was in this, son? They look like doughnut holes."

"Octopus. These are huge in Japan. We'll try sushi next. We'll have barbequed eel and raw squid." Seemingly oblivious to the look of dawning horror on his companion's face, Tony continued; "Or if you prefer there's sea urchin too."

Rogers' first thought was to tell the boy he didn't eat bait but considered such a response too rude and close-minded. The yakisoba noodles looked safe enough and he'd tried tempura before. "Let's take turns picking restaurants, all right?"

"This is New York, people here are always coming up with weird foods. Not that the rest of the country's any better – oh, I have _got_ to get you a deep fried Twinkie from the South sometime. They're better than drugs!"

The blonde's first thought was _how does he know that_? His second was that he had no idea what a Twinkie even was. He compared the food before him to the boiled cabbage and potatoes he'd eaten as a kid. Things had been very different back then. There had been no upper class boy buying him everything he wanted, no heroes in high tech armor going into battle at the tender age of sixteen. There'd been a few heroes in his day, men and women he felt humbled to be put in the same category with, but they'd been older, tougher, depending more on powers than on gadgets like Tony's armor. He wondered about the heroes of today. Who were they? Were they routinely this young, or was Tony an exception? Were super powers still around? Was the android known as Human Torch, for that matter?

* * *

"Keep staring, and I might do a trick," Tony quipped dryly, snapping Steve out of his reprieve. He gave the older man a knowing look. "If you're wondering about something, just ask. It'll help with the whole future shock thing, I think. Or at least, it should in theory; there haven't been any opportunities to figure out the right approach to this kind of thing, you know."

Steve smiled, briefly. "I know you're trying, son, and I appreciate everything you're doing. Going out for a bit was probably a good idea. It's nice to see the world again. But…" his fingers drummed on his Vault cup, uneasily. "What did you mean by, 'the dark age of superheroes'?"

Tony looked away. Then he looked into his cup, blue-gray eyes intense and expression unreadable. "I guess this is my fault," he said softly. "I told Rhodey not to let you read any of the books about heroes, because I didn't know how you'd react. But you need to know if you're gonna be living in this time. So…" he inhaled deeply. "It all began with you, Captain Marvel, The Human Torch, and some masked vigilantes whose names got lost in history even if their deeds weren't. Your day was different. Racism dictated that nobody ever really noticed black heroes, for one thing – don't get defensive, I know _you_ weren't behind that one. Still, there were only about a dozen of you on the whole East Coast. You were all good people doing good things out of pure altruism and for a while, things were good. That time from before the war to just after it is called the Golden Age, back when heroes were new and foreign concepts to everybody.

Then – Rhodey would know the dates, I wouldn't – then there was the Second Wave, somewhere in the 50's. There was a huge boom in the super hero population. Every country started to have their own as the USA made movies and comics about ours and exported them. You became a mythological figure, the first heroes suddenly had fan clubs, and all over the world more and more people started saying hey, why can't I do this? Japan's Kamen Riders and Sentai Rangers started up, and they've still got teams going. Russia's heroes had it tough, since their government hated them, but they basically had the necessary guts to say 'screw it' and get to work anyway. France and England produced some people who were so good at being good that the rest of Europe followed suit and by the late 60's every country had heroes. The Second Wave was a great time to be alive, or so my dad said. Not that he saw a whole lot of it, though. He was more a tech guy, like me, and he really did more in the science of treating and saving meta-humans than any crime fighting. Plus there was the whole diplomat thing."

"That's important work, Tony," Steve chided, noting the defensive way Tony spoke of his father. "A man doesn't have to be in the field to help win the battle."

If that phrase was too military for Tony, he didn't show it. He just smiled grimly and kept talking. "I think you would've liked the Second Wave, Steve. There were a lot of _real_ heroes back then, people who could really be trusted and counted on. Things aren't like that anymore. We're in the Dark Age, and I don't think there's any light at the end of the tunnel this time. Things… things are a lot worse than I've let you see. You don't even know what the last decade's been like, especially. Not that you could, since most books that really describe the level of the crisis are banned by the government."

His stomach twisted. "I fought for years to keep people who banned books _out_ of America, Tony."

Tony's expression was blank, but there was quiet fury behind his eyes and in his voice. "Well, get used to it. Ever since Dexter Morgan case, everything has changed. Now, there are precisely two kinds of versions of Dexter's life: the idealized, heroic version that leaves out all the blood, slaughter and horrific gory details in favor making him out to be a real hero, and the demonized, overblown version that ignores all the good he did and all the lives he probably saved. I'm a techno-nerd, so I'm giving you the third option, a quick summary: Dexter Morgan killed serial killers, rapists and human traffickers that the police force refused to touch or punish."

Azure eyes narrowed. "But was he a superhero?"

"Not even remotely," the teenager replied. "What he _was_, though, was the catalyst that sparked nationwide discussions and debates. Generally, people either wanted to give him a medal or shoot him. He had taken down some of the most evil men and women in America on his own with nothing but wits and a well stocked cupboard of Hefty bags. He also did things so violent and awful to those people that some of the bodies still haven't been identified even with the best tech in the world. So you can imagine that when the press was having their field day with the story, and mind you, they _were_, they asked celebrities for their opinions."

"And heroes are the ultimate celebrities," Steve finished for him, looking both interested and increasingly sick.

"Again, got it in one. And according to my dad, Rhodey's mom, and everybody who was there to witness it, _it was awful_. The country's heroes divided, bickered, got into fights on camera, went on the Jerry Springer show, badmouthed each other, and then we started seeing the prototypes for what everybody my age calls the Nineties Anti Hero. That's code for 'hero unafraid to kill'. After the Dexter Morgan trial, more and more heroes decided that they weren't going to play nice anymore. Arms were broken, fingers ripped off, people were thrown off buildings to get the information to get the bad guys off the street – whether that meant they ended up in jail or in a body bag was now entirely dependent on who found them. For a while in the nineties things were really going great, the crime rates were down and criminals were turning themselves in because they knew what would happen if they didn't, but… It couldn't go on forever.

Pretty soon there were heroes who stepped up and made citizen's arrests of other heroes who'd gone too far, and then there were the trials. Every channel when I was a kid would always have them; it was very good viewer bait. Who didn't like to gossip about the latest victim's fall from grace? I saw a lot of people I thought were real heroes who all my friends talked about turn out to be drug using, two faced monsters." Tony sighed heavily, draining his Vault before continuing. The action was not unlike that of an alcoholic downing a beer, such was the heaviness. "And now the government's got the National Security Agency, whose sole job is to hunt down and capture dangerous people with superpowers. Or, you know, anyone who has a super power at all, really. Not like you can fight it if someone gets taken. That's life, I suppose." He shrugged, looking into the empty cup. "That's the life I know, anyway. Heroes like you are myths. Every modern hero has blood on their hands."

"Even you?" Steve asked softly.

Tony didn't meet his eyes. "No. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about crossing that line. I don't want to be another dark hero in the Dark Age of Heroes, I just… How am I supposed to tell when enough's enough, when it's the right thing to do? How do I know I'm not going to let more people get killed if I let them go?" He idly fiddled with a piece of chicken. "I grew up with the Dexter Morgan case as a household phrase and I still can't see whether he was a hero or evil. That oughta tell you where I am morally."

Icicles slid down Steve's spine and settled into his stomach as he looked at the boy, shock giving way to a horrible revelation. Tony's soul was being eaten alive by an inner darkness few people guessed at. Most saw only the charmingly absentminded exterior and didn't bother looking further but Cap did and what he saw disturbed him almost as much as wartime atrocities. He realized with a sobering clarity that as much as he may wish otherwise, Tony was not Bucky and never could be. He was in fact a deeply troubled youth who was held together by sheer will; his own and his friends. What might happen if that control slipped for even a second terrified him in a way he could not put into words.

The younger man read the look on his face and smiled bitterly, aware that he'd displayed a bit too much of his darker self. "You probably have enough to tide you over for now. Let's go."

* * *

Steve stood and easily swung the shopping bags over his shoulders, shaking his head politely when Tony offered to help. The teen fell into sullen silence at the refusal and all the things left unspoken between them made the tension nearly palpable on the ride home. Cap realized the boy had been trying to turn him into the ideal mascot of his little hero movement. That, and mold Steven into a replacement for the boy's lost father. He stifled a sigh of frustrated sadness, feeling his new friend slip away from him. The realization made him feel old and sad.

Upon returning to the Rhodes' house the two politely avoided each other, lost in thought and ignored Rhodey's tactful attempts to inquire about the breech between them. Giving up, the tall boy mumbled something about dinner in the fridge and retreated to his room for homework followed by a long conversation with his girlfriend. It was the first time Tony could recall his best friend gracefully dropping the subject when the brunette refused to talk about something. Perhaps he'd decided to give his best friend space until the inventor was ready to talk about it. Or maybe Rhodey had just stopped caring now that Whitney was widening his social network. Tony tried to convince himself it didn't hurt, even though he didn't want to discuss the matter and decided to recalibrate the security cameras in the lab, pretending not to see the confused, sad look in Cap's eyes whenever their eyes met. He was relieved when the older man excused himself to field strip and clean the rust out of his revolver.

* * *

Midway through Tony's diagnostic he noticed the system had a small blind spot on the northwest corner of the compound.

"Computer," he spoke aloud, "increase pan and zoom function on Camera Delta. Switch to wide screen mode."

_Acknowledged._

The camera screen whirred and began to scan the previously obscured area. A tiny flicker of movement caught and held his attention. " Increase resolution in top left quadrant fifty percent."

_Calculating. Resolution increasing to fifty percent._

A very familiar uniform sharpened into view. Tony's storm eyes narrowed in anger.

Cap decided he'd had enough of avoiding his host and decided the boy need a little chow in his gut if he was going to fiddle with his gizmos all night. Finding what he needed in the icebox, he prepared a few Dagwood Sandwiches, pleased that he could handle cold cut technology at least.

"Tony? Listen, about earlier..." he broke off and stared, watching the boy all but growl at his fancy monitor.

"_Gene,"_ Tony snarled and ran towards his armor before Steve could call him back. Carefully putting down the meal he'd prepared, he sprinted to his own costume and hoped he could head the boy off at the pass.

Tony was in his armor and out of the launch chute in record time. He decided to use the updated stealth armor to catch the intruder unaware, smiling with grim humor inside his helmet. The little spy would never see him coming.

* * *

The black clad figure quietly made his way up the side of the building. According to the floor plan the Tong were able to obtain, the young Stark's laboratory was underground, the entrance obscured and no doubt monitored but a small maintenance vent nearby made it possible to bypass any motion sensors and enter undetected.

This thought process was abruptly aborted when he felt a strong breeze push against him, as if the wind suddenly roared to life and flew past. Unease gnawed at him and his skin prickled as his trained mind sensed danger.

"Sorry, pal, but the villain entrance is on the _other _side of the building."

The Tong initiate looked around and saw no one. A blue spark arced toward him and then blackness.

Captain America made his way to the spot he thought Iron Man had gone to. Jogging around the building he quickly came to the conclusion that the boy and whoever he'd captured were already back in the compound. Cursing his ineptitude, he returned inside.

* * *

Tony wasted no time securing the prisoner to a chair with sturdy restraints. He activated a force field around his vicinity. No well-meaning friends or potential allies were going to disturb him tonight.

"You won't need _this _anymore," Iron Man told his unconscious captive and roughly pulled off the full face mask the sleeping figure was wearing. The eyes behind the metal mask widened in surprise as he saw the person skulking around his lab, his _home_ was a kid no older than himself. Younger, perhaps. He felt the first stirrings of sympathy which he ruthlessly squelched. _Gene _had been a kid too. Look how easily he'd duped them all. Tony refused to be anyone's fool anymore and that determination steeled him to the unsavory task he would now perform. The kid was Tong. He no doubt knew to expect this sort of thing to happen after becoming involved with a criminal organization like that.

The world shifted from blurred to sharp focus at the speed of thought. A quick glance at his surroundings told him immediately how badly he had failed his mission. Could he but move he would have hung his head in shame.

"Hey, you're awake! You know...you caught me on a very bad day in a rather foul mood. Say...did the Tong train you on how to resist more..._creative _interrogations? Because if not...this could be over rather quickly." Tony arranged instruments on a steel tray with the calm detachment of a dentist. Selecting one, he glanced down at his horrified prisoner, pleased to see his words were having the desired affect. "Let me show you my favorite. It's a laser burner. In another life it'll be a replacement for conventional scalpels. But for now, allow me to educated you on its finer points."

"Two thousand degrees," Tony said stoically, holding up the laser burner without even glancing at it.

His eyes were glued to his prisoner. "Hot enough to turn steel into butter. It won't hurt, though. It'll sear off your nerve endings completely, and all you'll feel is cold. Isn't science grand?"

With that said, he turned it on, and Steve would have jumped him had there not been an invisible force field in the way; his fist crashed helplessly against the energy field, powerless to break it open. To his shock, however, Tony picked an ice cube out his drink and, from behind the prisoner, where he couldn't be seen or even felt but for the faint sound of his breathing, he pressed the ice cube onto the boy's neck. Steve watched, sickened, as all the color drained out of the boy's face. His ash gray eyes went wide and his body became totally still. Only the shaking of his hands and arms as he took a deep breath betrayed how terrified he was. Unable to watch the clinical, detached way Tony was looking at the boy, Steve slammed his shield into the force field's generator, disrupting it. It still burned to push through, but he did so and the next thing Tony knew he was sprawled out on the floor, laser cutter rolling on the ground, and he was looking into the angry eyes of Captain America. All those stories about him were true. He really was able to freeze people with a single look.

Tony looked away. Somehow, 'it would've made him talk' didn't seem like a good enough excuse anymore.

"What," Steve managed to grind out through his teeth, fists still clenched, "Were you _thinking_? Anthony Edward Stark-"

There was a clang, and Steve whirled around to see the prisoner, still bound and tied, throwing himself against the force field. It buzzed and sparks of energy seared the boy's skin, but after two tries at the weakened point where Steve had slipped through, he made it, and began rolling and struggling on his knees to get to the door. His blue-black hair had slipped out of its ponytail and hung around his tear stained face like a curtain; when Steve stepped forward, his eyes widened in terror. The ropes around his wrists were drawing blood. The blond man found himself unable to even look at Tony, such was his fury. Slamming the off button on the control panel, he stepped through the deactivated laser grid and slowly approached the boy on the floor. He was young, maybe a bit younger than Tony, but with wide, innocent eyes. Strongly reminded of Bucky in ways he didn't want to be, he knelt down to undo the ropes.

"What are you-"

"Not one word, Tony," Steve snapped, and the brunette fell silent. He turned to the now astonished looking boy. "What's your name, son?"

"Yunru," he replied hesitantly. He offered no last name and Steve didn't press him for one, ripping apart the bindings with raw strength.

"Well, Yunru, I can't say I approve of someone your age being in the Tong, and I've never been one to condone breaking and entering, let alone spy work, but I have some standards I like to uphold." Behind him, Tony winced at that. "Now, why don't we try this again? Who sent you, and why are you here?"

Yunru's voice shook faintly. "If I don't answer, do I get put back in the chair and…" he gestured with his head to the laser cutter, "until I answer?"

Steve's eyes were like hardened sapphires. "No. Detaining someone against their will is against the law. We just need to know, then you're free to go, I promise."

"Steve," Tony interjected, "I have this truth serum I've been working on-"

The look he got could have frozen fire and burned Pluto with its intensity. Tony fell silent again. Yunru was shaky as he rose to his feet, eyes darting around rapidly in fear and confusion as he tried to get his bearings. It was hopeless; he'd never make it upstairs and out of the house before he was caught again, but every time he looked back at the lasers and ice cubes Steve could see the almost tangible panic right beneath the surface grow. He froze when Steve reached out to touch him, every muscle tensing as if in preparation for an attack. All Steve did was fix the young boy's ponytail back into neatness before ruffling the top of his head reassuringly. Yunru looked the blond over, trying to gauge what was happening. Then, like lightning, he bolted, taking the stairs to the lab three at a time and stumbling on his weakened legs.

"Computer, force field three!" Tony yelled almost instinctively.

In a flash of light, sparks and pain, the Chinese boy found himself on his back and sprawled out on the stairs. The blow was enough to knock him out, or maybe he was faking, but no matter what the cause, Steve simply moved him onto a work bench before slowly turning towards Tony. All traces of Bucky like wonder and idealism were ripped from the brunette's features. His eyes were dim and dark and angry. He looked stern, angry, and empty, like Dexter Morgan in the history book Rhodey had showed Steve when he'd asked. Suddenly Steve was seeing Tony through whole new eyes, and he wasn't sure he liked what he saw. There was something more to this, something Tony wasn't telling him. He was sure he heard Tony say someone's name when he saw the Chinese boy. Studying the boy's face for any trace of emotion, he saw only something cold instead.

"Back in my day," Steve said softly, slowly, "Someone who did what you just did would be a villain."

Before Tony could answer, Rhodey opened the door, looking grim. "Uh, Tony, we have a situation here."

Tony looked behind him, and sighed, rubbing his temples. A Chinese woman with rounded, Mongolian eyes stood just behind Rhodey, wringing her hands. Her bistre eyes were begging for forgiveness before she said anything, and when he disabled the force field she all but threw herself down in front of him, kneeling on the floor with her head just inches above the tile. Her faintly accented voice was strained, and Steve could see from the bags under her eyes she had not been sleeping well lately.

"Please, Iron Man, your nobility, you must not kill Yunru," she started, and rushed on before Tony could object that that wasn't his intention. "It was not by his will that he is here, it is by mine. He is only a child, my brother is only a boy, and he does as he's told. The Tong were so angry when the Mandarin disappeared, and as the one who was with Master Temugin so often I am expected to somehow find him – and the only friend of his I knew was you. It was I who sent Yunru to watch you, that we might find our master. Please, sir, he would never hurt anyone, and if anyone deserves punishment, it is I. I am the head of our family of two. You must punish me instead, for Yunru's actions and Master Temugin's betrayal of your trust both." She stayed low to the ground, neck exposed and vulnerable to attack, as Tony gaped at her, trying to find words.

"How much do you know about the Tong?" Tony asked thoughtfully. Steve gave him a dirty look and grabbed him by the arm, leaning in to half whisper, half hiss at him.

"Tony Stark, if you want me to ever even _consider_ joining your ragtag group, you will let that poor woman and her brother go this _instant_. Haven't you done enough damage already?" he asked pointedly, glancing meaningfully at Yunru's unconscious form.

"I would never have _really_ hurt him," the boy protested, looking cornered and increasingly guilty. "It was just a scare tactic, Steve, I'm not like that, I swear." He was getting desperate as the weight of his actions dawned on him. Disapproval was one thing, disapproval from _Captain America_ was quite another.

"Then prove it," Steve shot back. "Let them go."

A heavy sigh. Then, "Alright. Fine. Miss…?"

"Zhen Linhua, sir."

"Miss Zhen, feel free to take your brother and go. Just…" he hesitated, clearly losing more and more of his nerve with each second. "Just don't tell anyone about the lab, or the suit, agreed?"

"Agreed," she said solemnly, rising slowly to her feet. Her eyes were like obsidian and Steve couldn't break away from her gaze when she smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you. Steve, was it? You are truly my hero."


	4. Chapter 3 Part Two

_Authors' Note:  And again! As promised, here is Part 2!_

**Chapter Three Part Two**

The woman's warm regard caused Steve's cheeks to warm and Rhodey's and Tony's eyes go wide. Rogers gave the woman a snappy salute. "Just doing my job, ma'am."

Tony felt a sudden urge to roll his eyes at this exchange but something told him that would just get him in deeper trouble with Cap.

Zhen Linhua lowered her eyes demurely. "As gratitude for your mercy, noble sir, I wish to offer what I hope will be useful information. There is a government organization whose purpose is to hunt down rogue meta-human or even ordinary citizens with unusual mutations, such as the one known as The Hulk. They claim they wish to find these people for their own safety and the safety of others but in truth they wish to replicate their abilities and recreate soldiers into weapons. " Her gaze sliced into Tony. "It will not be long at all before they begin to hunt heroes like yourself under the aegis of national security."

Captain America's face went white and he trembled all over as if cold. This was not his America. America did not treat her people that way and indeed, the Constitution existed to keep such atrocities from happening. Yet he had heard rumors about Japanese-Americans held in internment camps during the war "for their own good." The very thought that his government could do such things even during a conflict all but terrified him. He could not detect anything but utter sincerity in the woman's words and chose to believe her.

Rhodey spoke up as if sensing Cap's inner turmoil and Iron Man's reluctance to speak lest he draw the older man's ire again. "Can you tell us anything else, Miss Zhen? Like, who's running this?"

"It is lead by a man known only as Red Skull. He is employed by an agency within the Department of Defense to capture those deemed useful quickly and quietly."

No sooner had the words left the woman's mouth than Steve gripped her by the shoulders and held her gaze, hoping to find a scrap of dishonesty. She gasped as if in pain and he loosened his hold but did not let her go.

"Please, tell me all you know about Red Skull."

The woman seemed startled at the vehemence in his tone but continued. "Not much is known about him. It is said he is a German national and that he wears a strange mask resembling a red skull. He claims the mask is psychological warfare against his prey."

"Of course it is," Steve dropped his hands to his side and sighed. "Thank you for the information, ma'am. Now, I suggest you go, before my zealous companion here can stop you."

Needing no further urging, the woman and her younger sibling withdrew, bowing as one and backing out of the room before fleeing as if sought by Cerebus. Rhodey gave his armored friend a "What the heck, hero?" look and shook his head as if exasperated. Tony took off his helmet and took a deep breath.

"I think you've said more than enough today, young man," The blond man cut off the armored teen before the latter could speak. Rogers was in full Captain America mode right now, his compassionate civilian persona sublimated in the face of his righteous anger.

"I...think what Tony was trying to ask was..." Rhodey began and nearly regretted speaking up when Steve's icy gaze swung in his direction. "When Miss Zhen said the name, 'Red Skull' you recognized it. Did you-do you know this guy?"

"We've met," Cap replied drily and looked at the two teenagers. They were old enough to handle what he was about to say and despite his anger and disappointment at his host's behavior, it would feel good to get some things off his chest.

"How? In case you've forgotten you've been a Popsicle for the past sixty years. If you know this skull guy, would that make him eligible for Medicare by now?"

Rhodey closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the onset of a migraine coming on. "I think it's time to call a Team Iron Man meeting. Let's get Pepper in on this too if she has the time. " He looked from one pair of angry, glaring eyes to another. "If I have to referee for you two, I want backup."

* * *

"This actually explains a lot. There's been a huge shortage of super powered heroes around New York lately and this explains why."

Pepper's voice was calm and controlled to the point Tony kept wishing she'd launch into one of her old breathless diatribes. Only her earth brown eyes betrayed her excitement about taking part in a mission and her pleasure at being included. That little speck of joy made him feel guilty for all the times he'd taken her resourcefulness and hacker skills for granted. She'd obviously been researching the subject on her own.

The teen genius was suitably impressed. "What do you mean?"

The redhead swiveled in her captain's chair to face him. "Think about it. All those times Manhattan has been attacked by villains or ancient robots only the police or the military has shown up. What about all the superheroes? You're not the only one but you're the only one who's shown up to investigate."

"Yeah, well, I figured superhero licenses must be going at a premium these days, to say nothing of malpractice insurance..."

Rhodey ever so lovingly smacked him in the head. "More like 'Good Samaritan' insurance. You know, so when you save someone and they get hurt, they can't sue you. Geez, man, you live with a lawyer and you don't know this stuff?"

Steve looked to Pepper for guidance in this conversation. When she didn't react to what the two best friends said he treated it as a non sequitur and the discussion continued.

"Word must be getting around in the Supes community that 'freaks with powers' aren't welcome to interfere with police or government business here," Pepper surmised.

Rhodey nodded in agreement. "You have a point. Spider-Man tends to stick near Empire University these days when we used to see him all over. Then there's the Fantastic Four." At Steve's confused expression he elaborated. "They received their powers through an accident. Something about cosmic rays while on a space mission. There's entire volumes written about them if you want to read up on the subject later but they're a government sanctioned super team, mostly because they were national heroes before and after their transformations and the feds are hoping Doctor Reed Richards can recreate the accident that created them."

"The Fantastic Four have most of their mission either out of the country or out in space," Pepper added to Steve's astonishment. " She help up her hand before Cap could interrupt. "Book. Later. There's also a government blackout that censors most of their heroics so only the bare bones of what they do gets filtered down to the public. The last thing certain government agencies want is for a wellspring of public support for meta-humans to build up. That would go against certain federal programs and black ops agendas. Plus mercenary outfits like Blackwater don't want superpowers putting them out of work so they're motivated to help keep a damper on things."

"Now that you have the basics," Rhodey told Cap gently, "would you mind telling us what you know about this Red Skull person?"

Steve shuddered. "You'll have to forgive me, Rhodey. That is a name I had hoped never to hear again." He steadied himself and continued.

"You see, my induction into the Super Soldier program became more that just creating a new breed of soldier after the scientist who formulated the serum died. The higher-ups at the Pentagon saw the success of propaganda in Germany and decided if a defeated nation can pull itself up into a world threat in a mere decade or two, then that was a tactic America would use as well. So I became a symbol of all that was good about the USA, someone to rally around and raise troop morale. That's where Red Skull comes in. He was around before me so you could say I'm just an improvement over the original. He was created to be the symbol of Nazi intimidation by old Adolf himself. Kinda the resident Bad Guy so Hitler looked good. He specialized not only in terrorism but spying and sabotage too." _I bet Mister Too-Big-For-His-Britches never faced anyone like that._ Cap shook his head. Skull and me...we fought for what I thought was the last time years ago. The building we were fighting in collapsed around us. I got out. He didn't, or so I thought. Now..." Steve seemed to run out of steam.

"So this guy could be a fake," Tony interjected, desperate to regain Captain America's esteem. "The fact that he _seems _to be German could be a way to throw us off the scent or misdirect blame to someone totally innocent. There's several nations that would benefit from real or artificially created superheroes. Making the United States look stupid would be icing. Not to mention modern terrorists like HYDRA."

Cap didn't respond or even meet the boy's gaze and Tony was about to retreat back into silence when his POD chirped at him. He pulled it out of his pocket. "News alert. Hmmm..." He froze, looking startled. He bolted from his chair. "TV. Now."

* * *

The rest of the group rushed to keep up with him as the re-convened in the living room. Tony was first with the remote. The flat screen television flared to life where a female reporter was broadcasting from downtown Manhattan.

"You'll notice you never see attacks from the middle of The Bronx," Pepper remarked to no one in particular.

"That's because people there wouldn't tolerate robots or monsters. They'd run 'em out," Tony answered.

Rhodey shushed them both, eyes locked on the screen.

"We're coming to you live near Times Square where The Hulk is once again on a rampage!"

The woman's voice was shrill with genuine fear as she and her cameraman carefully dodged the debris field left in The Hulk's wake.

The armored hero's eyes narrowed at the image on television. Something was seriously wrong. Hulk didn't seem like he was on his usual rampage; his anger didn't seem aimed at anyone in particular nor did he seem bent on destroying the city. Rather he clawed at himself as if being attacked by a thousand stinging insects.

"So it's starting," Cap breathed.

Faces grim, the assembled watched at the green behemoth seemed to fight off what ever was attacking him, shaking his head as though fending off a mental assault. Coming back to himself and noticing the terrified news crew for the first time, he launched himself into the air and was gone.

The woman onscreen heaved a well-deserved sigh of relief before adding; "We now take you to Senator Robert Kelly."

"This green menace, this abomination to nature and human decency must be stopped!" the man expounded righteously, banging the podium he spoke from for effect. These creatures, yes creatures, for I can't see any humanity in them are a public menace! Even those who claim to be heroes! If they are so benevolent, why the masks? I'll tell you why! To continue as vigilantes! If they want to serve their country then take off the masks and put on a uniform!"

The camera cut away from the senator and back to a overly coiffured man at an anchor desk. "We now take you to Doctor Bolivar Trask with a special report on what makes meta-humans tick."

A respectable-looking man in a lab coat began to speak to the audience, his voice pompous and condescending. "Why, thank you, Tom. As you can see," he turned his attention to a Power Point presentation. "Meta-human DNA, or in layman's terms, mutant DNA is different from normal, true human DNA. The so-called 'X Gene' can impart barbaric abilities to these sad mistakes of nature, which then affect the brain and cause insanity, as we saw earlier in The Hulk. The peptide chains in the chromosomes are deformed and therefore-"

He was cut off as Steve snatched the remote from Tony's hand and began pressing buttons until he found the right one. He collapsed on the couch, legs no longer able to hold him and stared across the room, unseeing.

Pepper approached him cautiously. "Steve? You okay?" Her voice was gentle as if addressing one in shock.

Cap's whole body shook as if chilled and his face was a mask of horror. "I've seen this kind of tactic used before," he whispered to himself. The blond man didn't seem aware of his surroundings. "A small, undesirable minority was wiped out using a pseudoscience known as Eugenics. It denounced those people as genetically inferior and used such trivial things as hair, eye, and skin pigment to prove it. Genetic inferiority was then used to justify those people being labeled, segregated, and ultimately all but destroyed. Now with modern science and technology those considered undesirable can be wiped out with more credible means such as DNA mapping but it's just as disgusting, perhaps more so because people are reduced to data. Potentially dangerous isn't the same as being a murderer or even a serial killer." Tony now regretted telling Steve about Dexter. He willed the other man to stop talking about it but Cap continued as if compelled to speak. "This shouldn't happen here. It _can't _happen here! This is AMERICA!" He shouted the last word.

Rhodey interjected quietly. "You mean the Jews. How Nazi Germany turned an innocent ethnic and religious minority into a scapegoat for all their problems and participated in legalized murder."

"Yes."

"So what does the Red Skull have to do with this?" Pepper wondered aloud. "If he was a Nazi agent, then...?"

Captain America forced himself to speak. "He doesn't care about this government agenda because for now it dovetails into his own. The Nazis were defeated, which means Red Skull, or whoever he really is, was out of a job. If this is my old enemy, he's trying to recreated the Third Reich and using one of the countries that humiliated Deutschland to do it would be sweet revenge indeed."

"A relatively small country like Germany was able to pool its resources and become a world threat less than twenty years after being defeated during the First World War," Rhodey pointed out.

"Skull would love creating a Meta-human Master Race to take over the world," Cap muttered darkly.

Tony tried rejoining the conversation. "But it takes money and resources to do stuff like that so who is..oh no," Tony's eyes widened. "If Red Skull got to SHIELD or formed an alliance with Stane...he could use Stark International to be unstoppable."

"Aside from AIM, you have the best tech," Pepper added. "And AIM wouldn't work with him, they have their own agenda. Plus since this guy is just going to betray anyone he works with anyway, they can probably figure out he'd back stab them too. Like recognizes like after all."

"So, what will Red Skull do next?" Rhodey asked. The assembled looked at each other, unable to answer him.

Tony retrieved the remote. "Let's find out."

The conservative commentator onscreen was outrageously blaming the rise of incident involving meta-humans on the "Far Left" while his liberal counterpart claimed it was due to lax pollution laws favored by corrupt politicians who favored Big Business. Steve puzzled over this while Pepper rolled her eyes and make "blah blah" talking motions with her hand. The dueling journalists were interrupted once again by the female reporter.

"Breaking news! No more than ten minutes after being threatened by The Hulk, Manhattan is now under siege by a group of strange deformed people! Could these be but the first wave of a hostile meta-human invasion? Or is it simply another terrorist plot to divert the attention away from the real threat?"

No one seemed to be listening to her as they sat transfixed at the sight of ten meta-humans lining up as if in formation. All of them had tubes and wires embedded in their flesh and some sort of control device around their foreheads.

"Oh, no..." Rhodey's eyes were dark with sympathy.

"None...none of them match the descriptions of the missing meta-humans I found online," Pepper's voice shook. "I think...I think these guys were artificially created."

Steve's could not make sense of it all and he sat as if in a trance.

Tony's expression transformed into what Pepper might call his "Hero Face". "That's beside the point. We gotta stop these guys. Rhodey, let's suit up. Pepper, I need you to monitor the command center. Steve? Steve? You with us?" Captain America's stupor did not waver.

The genius gave up in anger. "Fine," he ground out harshly, "we did just great without you. I see no reason for that to change."

He stormed out towards the hidden lab, Rhodey close behind him. Pepper laid a sympathetic hand on her new friend's shoulder, who smiled and squeezed it gently. She gave him a half hug and left, leaving the former hero to stare at the television.

* * *

_Some role model. Sitting useless on the couch when the city is under attack? I don't need him, his sermonizing, or his attitude. _

Iron Man and War Machine sped towards downtown. Pepper squawked on the intercom.

"Hey guys, be careful. The Army is sending in troops. We aren't the media darlings we were a few weeks ago."

"Y'know, Rhodey? Maybe I should start calling Pepper 'Mom' now."

"I won't mind."

"You're very funny. Now stop it."

Iron Man laughed and did a few barrel rolls. He swooped in and did a few loops around the confused meta-human troops. One or two seemed to power up their abilities while the rest stared, unsure whether to attack or flee.

"Focus, Tony!"

Iron Man was angry at his disillusionment and was feeling overly confident in his own abilities. Rhodey fired off a few stun rays and gently took a few opponents out but seemed frustrated, having to fight and keep an eye on his best friend.

"Tony! Knock it off!"

"What? I'm having fun! Hey, fellas! Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's...my foot!" Iron Man kicked the largest soldier in the head, knocking him against the curb and rendering him unconscious.

Pepper sighed, not even looking up when Steve joined her downstairs. "Tony's too busy showboating Rhodey, so it's up to you."

"I'm on it." War Machine sounded grim.

"What is he doing?" Cap asked in wonder.

Pepper had always been more observant than people gave her credit for but since having her intelligence enhanced even more so. Neither Tony nor Steve had mentioned what caused the tension between them but she had a good idea.

"Isn't it obvious? He's being stubborn and stupid! Seems to be going around lately." Captain America seemed surprised at the vehemence of her sarcasm and felt compelled to explain himself.

"Save it." Pepper stopped him, her eyes never leaving the screen. "We don't need in-fighting distracting us right now. I don't care who did or said what. Saving the city takes precedence. Clear?"

"Crystal, ma'am." Cap nearly saluted but stopped himself in time.

Rhodey managed to subdue all but two of the attacking meta-humans. Naturally these two were the most dangerous of the group and without his companion's backup, they posed a threat to the small group of bystanders who had refused to evacuate. The artificial adaptations seemed too much for the remaining pair and they began attacking the crowd. War Machine was able to physically subdue one of them but the other remained actively endangering innocent civilians.

"Tony! Behind you!" Pepper screamed into the headset she wore but Iron Man seemed too busy allowing himself to be interviewed.

"Oh, yeah, I'm just like everyone else out of the suit. I like long walks on the beach..." Tony was telling the woman.

"Yo! Iron Bot!" a familiar voice called out.

"Happy! Run!"

Happy Hogan turned his attention to War Machine. "Second Iron Dude! How's it going? You know what's wrong with Iron Bot? He got a screw loose or somethin'? He's kinda...be right back!" A small child broke away from her father, screaming hysterically. Happy darted out and grabbed the girl before scaffolding could crush her. Unfortunately, the basketball star wasn't fast enough.

"HAPPY!"

Pepper screamed into the microphone and she beat her fists firmly against the screen. She glared as Steve approached in an attempt to comfort her. He backed away at the vehemence in her gaze. His stomach knotted as he sat in futile anger at his and Iron Man's inaction.

* * *

None of Happy Hogan's injuries were life threatening but his collarbone was broken and it was doubtful it would heal in time for the rest of the season. He waved weakly with his good hand at the cameras on his way into the ambulance.

Pepper barely waited until Tony was out of the armor to punch him in the face.

Rhodey and Steve stared at her in shock but neither of them intervened on his behalf.

The brunette could not voluntarily meet her eyes so she grabbed his head and forced him to look at her.

"What the heck was that? The city's in danger so you figure it's the perfect time for an exclusive interview? Happy could have died! _Died, _you jerk! Or don't you care?"

"I'm sorry, Pepper..."

He grunted as the infuriated redhead punched him again. "Sorry? Sorry!" her voice was increasingly shrill. "Oh, you're sorry, so that makes everything okay! Oh, I forgot." Pepper's eyes blazed and Tony realized yet again how dangerous she would be as an enemy. "You're Iron Man so _that_ makes everything okay! Look, it's Iron Man! Never mind that his friends are in danger, watch him make witty quips! Let's all point and marvel, everyone!"

Pepper pushed him into a wall and he held his hands up in surrender, knowing that trying to defend himself would only make things worse.

"Being smart and talented doesn't make you superior! You're supposed to hold yourself to a higher standard! Not be a spoiled brat when you don't get your way. I don't expect you to be perfect but I expect you to be responsible!"

"And you!" She turned her attention towards Steve, who seemed ill-prepared for her fury. "You're supposed to be an adult, a role model. Where were you when we needed you? Pouting over a philosophical difference? I know you're a man of integrity. I respect that and would never ask you to compromise your principles. But we could have used your help today." With that, she stomped her way up the stairs, pausing only to accept a brief hug from Rhodey.

Left alone, the two remaining heroes were left in awkward silence.

* * *

_Never did eat those sandwiches. I hate good food going to waste. Mother would have my hide._

Steve stumbled downstairs. His stomach was growling loudly. Not so loudly he didn't hear the banging and cursing of someone trying to pry open the wooden cabinet in Roberta Rhodes' den.

"Tony! What in the hell are you doing?"

Tony Stark smiled cynically up at an astonished Steve Rogers. His eyes were smudged with dark circles and bloodshot but he still seemed pleased with himself for making Captain America use profanity.

"Perfect timing. Would you happen to know what a jigger is?"


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Yahoo! I know, it's past time I updated this story. You can all thank the wonderful FluffleNeCharka for this, without her I could not have continued. Go leave her some reviews. Speaking of reviewers, thank you all for your kind encouragement I am glad to see my efforts aren't wasted. _

_(Loosens collar with a nervous chuckle.) FluffleNeCharka was kind enough to do some word fluffing for me and I think I posted the pre-fluff version by mistake. Hopefully this is the right version._

Never you mind, young man." Steve swatted Tony's hand away from the cabinet and jerked the boy to his feet. Sure, they'd allowed a few of the younger fellas to have a swig or two but they knew to be responsible with it. Beside, when any one of them could die the next day, bending the rules didn't seem such a big deal.

Tony's situation was different. He was acting like an irresponsible brat who was abusing the trust of the woman who'd opened her home to him. Steve had seen fellas like him before; soldiers who could take the pain and death they'd seen and rather than use that rage on the battlefield they just crawled inside a bottle and died there. It was easier than living and a fate worse than death all at once.

Intellectually he knew Tony was a fragile scared boy who was trying to fill shoes way too big for him. But Rogers was too worked up to treat the lad with kid gloves. Sixteen was way too old to be considered a child.

"Conscience bothering you, boy? Because of your grandstanding today that friend of yours got hurt. This is going to make everything better? Hiding behind hooch? I bet your friends and admirers would be real disappointed to see their hero acting like a lily livered coward."

Stark twisted away from him, angry and guilty at the same time. "Freud had a word for how _you're _behaving too, _hero,_" he responded snidely. "It's called 'projecting'. A defense mechanism in which one attributes to others one's own unacceptable or unwanted thoughts or emotions We could've used a hand dealing with those guys today. Instead you're wasting time arguing with me and ignoring that you messed up."

"Spare me the amateur psychology, kid." Steve let him go. "I've read all about Doctor Freud so don't even try it. You're just hiding the fact what Pepper said today was right. Your feelings being hurt were more important than that boy's life. As a hero, you should hold yourself to a higher standard, no matter what anyone else does. And that boy. Rhodey gave me the lowdown. He told me that young fella and his sister work for a rat fink that used to be a friend of yours and may know where your dad is and if he's alive. I can't blame you for wanting your dad back but that wasn't an interrogation, that was _diabolic. _You were trying to make the boy suffer for... Gene Khan, was it? Gene Khan's treachery."

Tony's eyes slid away from him. The inventor couldn't deny what Captain America said was true. He'd been a real jerk. Usually only he had to deal with the consequences of his actions and as much as he'd like to push them off on Cap, it was his fault Happy had been hurt. As usual, Tony Stark caused more problems than he solved. He made things worse. He got everyone around him hurt. After all was said and done things were always his fault. He couldn't deny it, not to Steve, because he couldn't deny it to himself.

Steve sensed the shift in Tony's demeanor. Steve also realized just how little he knew about Tony's past. Rhodey had been sparing in the details. He had said Tony's father might've been kidnapped, that the one who did it had been a friend of Tony's and Tony had built the armor himself. Everything else had been ignored. There was so much to catch up on in these changing times that Steve hadn't even considered what was going on in the life of the brunette man in front of him. Tony's storm blue eyes were dull, empty, like a dead man walking. His hands were shaking, a fact he couldn't conceal despite shoving them in his pockets. He was obviously trying his hardest not to break down entirely. He didn't want to cry. He didn't have to; it was evident in his voice.

"I need… I need a break. I need to just forget all this for a little bit. I don't think I can deal with this anymore. I can't keep going. I just need it all to _stop_." Tony raised his hands in defeat. "You're right. Is that what you what to hear? I'm pathetic. I, Anthony Stark, am a failure at being a hero, at being a friend and at being a human being. There, I said it. _You win._ Once upon a time I was awesome, an inventor and a genius, a media darling, and then it all went to hell. And apparently I can't bounce back from losing everything like you can. Sorry."

"It might help if you actually _told_ me what happened," Steve replied in a gentler tone than he'd used before. "You may be a big shot, but I'm not up on who's who." Tony smiled bitterly at that. Then it was gone in a flash, replaced with another glass eyed expression.

"I'll teach you to use Google, then. There's lots of news articles about my life. 'Teen Prodigy Loses Father's Company'," he half-sneered, self deprecating. "'Stark International Out Of Stark Hands', 'Fall of Stark Empire', things like that. Unfiltered by sympathy and sentimentality. Clear cut facts are better for you soldier types, right? And the fact of it all, Captain, the real truth is… I failed. I'm falling apart like an idiot because I'm just a rich brat, a _celebutant_, a kid playing dress up as a hero when really I'm in way over my head. I'm not a hero. I..." The self loathing was boiling over into fury and his voice fell to a dangerously low, broken tone. "My dad would hate what I've become..."

The blonde man placed a hand on his shoulder. All traces of anger on his end were well and truly gone. His eyes held nothing but concern. "Breathe, son. Start at the beginning. Please, I just want to understand what's happening – not with the world, or the company, _with you_. A textbook can't tell me that. A newspaper certainly can't; Lord knows they'll twist the truth for their own means. If you want me to work with you, to be your friend, to be on your side-"

"One of my best friends killed my father!" the brunette interrupted, the words bursting from his mouth a little too loudly.

Steve's sky blue eyes went wide. "What?"

Tony winced and shut his eyes, crossing his arms as if bracing against an impact. "Gene Khan spent the past four months playing me for a fool. I thought he wanted to help me, wanted to be my friend, I thought he understood me... I was an idiot. He was just using me to get to the Makluan Rings. He just wanted power and I was useful. I was stupid enough to want the same power, to want to decode the technology and keep my father's legacy going, do something _right_ for once, something my dad could've been proud of..." He dropped his gaze to the floor in shame. "And Gene knew it, so he used me, took it all from me, told me what he'd done, and then dropped the bombshell on me that he was the one who... my dad... there was this plane crash... I wasn't supposed to survive." He took a deep breath, sounding tired and frustrated all at once. "Now he says that he has my dad and all my science and knowledge can't tell me whether he's lying or not, because there wasn't sufficient blood at the crash sight for him to be dead, but Gene could've taken him and he could've bled out somewhere else because there was enough to indicate a heavy wound. The shrapnel from the explosion alone was enough to damage my heart and nearly kill me – and I had armor on. Meanwhile, my dad's company gets handed over to a warmonger despite my dad being a sworn pacifist. Then Registration started up. It's been a rough year," he added dryly, with another touch of self mockery. "Nothing you couldn't bounce back from in a week, I'm sure."

For once, Tony's scientific techno babble wasn't thick enough to completely lose Steve. He almost wished that it had. The idea of not knowing whether someone he loved was alive or not was horrifying. Steve could imagine the internal war, the debates on what action to take, the constant worry and the doubt that Gene was telling the truth. If he was, then Tony could get his father killed via inaction. If he wasn't, Tony could fall for another lie and get his comrades killed. All Tony's wealth couldn't buy them back. He was richer than God, but ultimately mortal, susceptible to all the pain and loss anyone else was, and the betrayal had cut him deeply. He was no villain, he was a sixteen year old kid with a lot of things bottled up. Beneath the goofy kid genius exterior there was a broken soul. He hadn't let a lt of people in so far in his life, and one of the first people he did had stabbed him in the back. Of course Tony was angry. He'd be inhuman not to be.

Steve's expression softened from the scowl it had been fixed in previously. He turned Tony's shoulder with his hand and locked eyes with the younger hero, speaking quietly, gently. "Liquor doesn't make your problems go away, it just masks them. I know you have a lot to deal with and I'm proud of you for dealing with all this with so little guidance on your own. You went from a happy rich kid with a dad to an orphan grownup in kid's clothing. That's a wrench, soldier. I'm sorry."

There was a pause as the brunette tried to think of what to say. He seemed not to understand how to react to sympathy; he was all too eager to join in when the talk turned to his failures, but his own emotions seemed a foreign territory to him. It had been months since his father was there to comfort him, in a world that seemed like somebody else's life. The concept of being understood was incomprehensible. He was Tony Stark. He worked alone. He _lived_ alone, despite his friend's best attempts to remedy it. Isolation was the only way he knew to survive now.

"You don't understand," the boy said softly at last. "I don't want to lose my family." He looked away. "I don't want to lose anyone else to Gene Khan, I can't take it. I have to stop him. I already lost one family, I can't lose two. And that means I have to compromise impossibly high moral standards. Ideas are nice, but I have to live. These are the times I live in."

Cap stared at him, flabbergasted. "You think I don't understand loss, son? Or evil? I also understand what it's like to lose your family. Or have you forgotten? I've lost my family. I lost my comrades, my friends, _my whole world _is gone! And all your newfangled contraptions and cellular phones won't bring it back. I have to accept that. I have to figure out what to do now in an America I don't even _recognize_!

"Yes. You're hurting, you're angry and you're scared. You have a right to be and I understand how you feel. But what you want to do, it's evil in the name of good. How you treated that boy was evil. And giving in to the demon in the bottle and turning your back on folks who'd run through Hell over salt-encrusted broken glass for you is so wrong I'm surprised I even have to tell you."

Tony studied him thoughtfully for a moment and Steve could tell the young genius was turning over his words in the cogs and sprockets in that dang fool brain of his. Sometimes being smart was a curse, or at least, being incredibly bright and without any kind of moral guardian was. Tony could create a liquid nitrogen gun in a night of boredom but he also could overanalyze an issue to death and draw all the wrong conclusions. Maybe a boy from Steve's age might've been convinced there and then to stop acting as he was. Tony was from the Dark Age. This was not as simple as good and evil to him. The lines between those two things were blurred until it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. Evil in the name of good that produced a lot of good was ultimately good. That was what he'd been taught. That was what he knew. Heroes did things a lot worse than what he'd done today and they did it all the time. It had been easy to be above that before he had been thrust into the fray the day that plane crashed. Once upon a time the world made sense. Now nothing ever did.

Quietly, the teenager spoke. "So, let's say you had the chance to go back in time to 1940's Germany. Hitler is ten feet away from you and you have a gun. Would you kill him? To save millions?"

Captain America spoke without hesitation. "Yes. Yes I would. But would I go back further and kill a confused teenaged boy? Or a baby? No. That's what you're doing, son. Removing a _potential _threat. If I met a teenaged Hitler or a child Hitler, I'd try to turn him away from that path, maybe encourage him to emigrate to Paris or America. This boy might be redeemable. Don't do this, don't box him in so that the _only _choice he has is evil. You're letting your fear and anger blind you, Tony."

Tony's smile was bitter. "Fear turns to anger. Anger turns to hate. Hate turns to the Dark Side. Is that what you wanna tell me?"

"Oh, yes. Your 'Star Wars' movies. Rhodey showed me clips of some of them. Looks like that Lucas fella ripped off the old Flash Gordon and Buck Rodgers' serials. Not quite how I'd put it though, but I guess that will do."

Steve sighed and wondered what else he could say to get through that blockhead's skull. He suspected no one could until the boy was good and ready to listen so he decided to give Tony "space". That, or the alternative was to knock the squirt's fool head _into _space. If Tony only hadn't had a heart condition, Steve might've punched him if sheer frustration. Fortunately, his mother had raised him better than that. He looked over at the dark haired boy and saw the same reflective, exhausted, dull look in his eyes he had before. It was like everything had been drained out of him in the course of their conversation. The effect was incredibly aging on the young man.

Steve turned away and gestured toward to the stairs. "Go get some shut eye, Tony. You've got school in the morning."

Stark gladly took the excuse for what it was; a graceful exit. "You're exaggerating this whole drinking thing. I just needed to relax, that's all. My dad had a drink or two all the time and he turned out just fine! He ran Stark International and all the subdivisions perfectly!"

Both of them pretended to ignore the catch in Tony's voice as he headed to bed. Steve had read up on history and had heard Howard Stark's name. Diplomat, humanitarian, inventor, creator of things that sounded like something out of a science fiction novel even to people from this century. Nobody had mentioned the drinking, but Steve had had a gut feeling no one could be that much of a saint. He was sad to be proven right. He wondered how much easier Tony would've had it if Howard had lived up to his own hype or had a mother to intervene. Tony hadn't mentioned her, come to think of it. Now wasn't the time to press his luck by asking. Still, there was one last thing.

"Hey, kid."

"Yeah?"

"A **jigger** is what a bartender uses to measure before he pours it into a cocktail shaker. Don't let me catch you any where near this cabinet again."

"You won't. G'night, Cap."

Tony nearly added that he wouldn't let himself get caught but couldn't stand how Cap made him feel guilty. The look in those guileless blue eyes was the same as the one his father gave him every time he'd told his son he wasn't angry, just disappointed. They were even the same blue, the same familiar expression in spite of all the differences. He wanted to go drown himself in the nearest vodka to forget that look and the fact that he might not see it from his real father ever again. Somehow, without his consent, his subconscious had replaced his father with Captain America, and the heroes words cut him to the core. He was a disappointment. He wasn't getting it. He was failing everyone. _Story of my life,_ the teen thought glumly. That knowledge made Tony feel as he had when he'd seen Happy injured. Guilty, but unsure how to make things better.

He sighed and entered his room, looking at the discarded pieces of various projects on his desk and floor. Yet again he found himself with a lot of people to apologize to and no words despite his huge vocabulary. The words seemed inadequate, meaningless attempts at conveying emotions that he barely understood. _Well, what now? It's not like I can make Pepper a jet pack-_ He froze, mid thought, and then he grinned wildly.

Sometimes being Tony Stark had its advantages, after all.


End file.
